


Belle's Journal

by CharlotteAshmore



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2014-11-08
Packaged: 2018-01-15 10:25:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 98,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1301515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlotteAshmore/pseuds/CharlotteAshmore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It only takes three little words “She was right!” to shatter any hope she had for her happy ending, three words to turn true love’s kiss into an act of betrayal, and an end to her ‘forever’ with Rumpelstiltskin in the Dark Castle.  Will the journal she leaves behind be enough to make him see the truth in her heart and send him after the woman he loves?  We can only hope…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EmilieBrown](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmilieBrown/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I do not own OUAT, any of its characters, storylines, plot bunnies, etc, etc. If I did, I could get myself into a whole mess of trouble *evil grin*. This is for entertainment purposes only and for my amusement. This disclaimer is to encompass the entire fic. This is not for profit. This is written with no intention to infringe on any copyrights. I think that about covers it, so let’s get on with the tale…

_“She was right!  She said true love’s kiss would break any curse.”_

        She’d played him for a fool.  She was nothing but the queen’s spy sent to destroy him.  How could he be so incredibly stupid not to have seen it?  In that one moment as his lips met hers, he’d felt hope spring to life in his chest, hope that his precious perfect girl somehow returned his love.  Belle didn’t want him; she didn’t love him.  She merely wanted to play the hero and kill the beast.  His gaze surveyed the damaged he’d wrought in the Great Hall and he snorted.  He was a beast all right, one with a great deal of anger issues.  This was why he couldn’t trust or love or ever let anyone close enough to betray him.  It hurt too bloody much!

        Belle had been so ecstatic when the curse had begun to slip from his grasp, the smile curving her lips one of brilliant blinding happiness.  She’d very nearly succeeded stripping him of his power, his magic and she was _happy_ about it.  For months she’d played him for a fool, making him think that she cared for him.  She had given him what he craved…human companionship, someone to share his life with to ease his loneliness.  She offered her friendship with an openness that astonished him, sharing things from her childhood in Avonlea, her thoughts and fears as she grew older and had to face her role in her father’s court and her desires to give it all up to see the world.  She fascinated him.  And the more time he spent with her, the more he craved her presence in his life.

        She had never feared him, and that never ceased to irritate him.  What kind of girl, what princess wasn’t afraid of monsters?  Oh no, not his Belle.  They spent six months in the castle together before she completely lost her unease for him, six months before she found herself brave enough to touch him.  He’d thought it merely an accident, the slight brush of her fingertips against his when she handed him his tea…until she did it again, and again, and again.  Why didn’t the green-gold hue of his skin, or the black claw-like talons that served as his nails repulse her?  Instead she seemed to crave the contact just as much as he did.  She would look for excuses to straighten his cravat or brush imaginary specks of dust from the shoulders of his dragon hide coat.

        But it was her hugs that sent his carefully controlled indifference careening into the abyss.  He found himself wanting to return her embrace, wanting to bury his face in her chestnut tresses and breathe in her scent.  He needed to feel the alabaster skin of her throat against his lips, need to feel the expanse of her waist beneath his hands as he pulled her tightly against him.  He found himself needing… _her_.   He yearned for _her_ , longed for _her_ , fallen in love with _her_.  He, Rumpelstiltskin, the most powerful sorcerer ever to walk the realms, had been taken in by the queen’s spy and nearly destroyed.  And not by magics more powerful than his own.  Oh, no!  All it had taken was one mere slip of a girl with the promise of hope and love in her jewel-bright sky blue eyes.

        Rumpelstiltskin could hear her coming down the marble staircase.  He was sending her away, having no choice but to break their deal.  He couldn’t have a traitor living under his roof.  He moved to the foyer and waited, refusing to glance up at her…well, maybe just a peek.  Damn, she’d been crying, her nose a shiny beacon in the gloom and her eyes red and puffy, tracks of her tears leaving salt trails on her beautiful face.  No doubt just another part of her act, he thought, refusing to let her guilt him into asking her to stay.

        “Have you collected all of your things, dearie?  I don’t want a single reminder of you when you’re gone,” he said, his tone high-pitched, the voice of the imp, not the man, his words meant to wound, to flay.  “I’m sure Regina will replace anything you might have forgotten once you return to her with news of your failure.  Then again, it might not be wise to let her know you failed.”  The slight stiffening of her shoulders assured him that his barbs had struck true.

        “I have nothing of my own,” she answered, her lower lip trembling to betray the hurt that was so close to the surface.  She carried only her cloak with her.  It would be so easy to destroy her composure so completely and have her sobbing and weeping and begging at his feet in mere moments.  But he loved her still.  No matter what she had done, he still loved her, still wanted her, still needed her and he couldn’t bring himself to cause her anymore pain that necessary.

        She held herself straight and proud as she preceded him out the door, her head held high only to stop on the top step leading into the courtyard at the sight of the carriage.  She looked at him inquiringly, her brows raised suspiciously.

        “Mr. Dove will escort you home, dearie, or wherever it is you wish to go,” he said, his teeth clenched and his lip curled back over his teeth in a show of disgust to hide the pain that was ripping his heart apart and making him want to curl up at her feet and beg her to stay.

        Belle narrowed her gaze on him.  Theodore Dove was Rumpelstiltskin’s hired man from the village, a lonely widower who made coin by doing odd jobs for the Dark One, but she could never remember Rumpel ever asking him to do something like this before.  Hope flared in her breast.  “Why?  Why do you care?”

        “I don’t.  But there are all sorts of vile things in these mountains that could do you harm.  I just don’t want you to come to a nasty end on my land and have your rotting carcass fouling up the place.  It’ll scare off potential clients,” he sneered, his words vicious poisonous barbs meant not just to harm, but maim and mutilate what was left of her heart.  He couldn’t have done as much damage if he had struck her and she stepped back away from him, turning on her heel with a strangled sob and bounded up into the carriage. He moved to the front of the conveyance and spoke quietly to his man.  “Don’t let any harm come to her.”

        Dove glanced down at the imp that he’d always considered to be more than his employer, but his friend as well and he refused to bite his tongue even if he spent the rest of his days trekking along on his belly as a snail.  “It doesn’t seem that she could come to more harm than what you’ve already done, milord.”

        Rumpelstiltskin ignored the man and warded the carriage to ensure that Belle’s was protected on her journey home.  The windows were closed and the shades drawn and still he could hear her muffled sobs, sobs he didn’t want to admit tore at his heartstrings and made his stomach roil as the carriage wended its way to the gates, each rotation of the wheels bringing her one step farther out of his reach.  He stood motionless in the center of the courtyard, his amber eyes fixed on the last place he’d seen the conveyance, his ears attuned to the last sound of its wheels on the mountain path.  And then, just as quickly as she’d entered his life, she was gone.

        He retreated to his laboratory in the northwest tower and locked the door.  He sealed the front gates with a thought, warding off anyone who would dare to interrupt his morose brooding and barred the front doors.  The entirety of the Enchanted Forest could burn to ash and he couldn’t have cared less.  He stood at the window, staring out in the direction of his love’s kingdom, cursing himself for a fool for falling for her tricks, cursing Regina for her machinations and manipulations in her quest to destroy him and cursing Belle for her lies.  For three days, he didn’t sleep, he didn’t eat and he didn’t spin, waiting for the moment when Dove returned with the carriage, waiting to see if Belle would defy him and return.  When his man did return with an empty carriage, Rumpelstiltskin sought out the sanctuary of his bedchamber to lose himself to the exhaustion that plagued him.  That’s where he found it.

        The floral scent that he associated with Belle, one of roses and lilacs and heather still lingered in his room.  She was forbidden to enter his chambers, but his rules no longer applied in the light of her leaving and she’d wanted to make sure that he found it.  Her precious journal, the only thing she’d brought with her from Avonlea, refusing to leave it behind.  He knew the value of precious items and he’d been intrigued by the small red leather bound book.  But he’d never asked about it and she’d never offered to appease his curiosity.  He thought she’d had it tucked somewhere beneath the folds of her cloak when she’d left.  Now it was there for his perusal, lying innocently enough on his pillow, a single slip of folded parchment lying next to it.  The hand he stretched forward to take up her letter trembled.  How many more lies could she possibly have to impart?  Only the journal could possibly hold the truth.  After all, why would she tell lies to herself?  Those were her innermost thoughts and feelings written in her own hand.  But why would she leave it for him, in his room, on his pillow where he was sure to find it and read for himself what she had written over the course of her time in his home?

        He unfolded the letter she’d left for him and her bold looping penmanship reached out to him and caused him to frown as he read:

 

_My darling Rumpel,_

_I have left you my journal and ask that you keep it safe.  Burn it, rip it to shreds or lock it away.  The choice is yours.  You once teased me that I was trying to discover the monster’s weaknesses.  I didn’t want to take the chance that I’ve written anything in my journal that could betray you or cause you harm if it happened to fall into the wrong hands. Despite what you believe, I never betrayed you._

_Yours,_

_Belle_

 

        He tossed the letter aside with a snort, thinking it another of her tricks, dismissing the clenching of his heart as he read her words.  He couldn’t ever remember being anyone’s darling, especially not to his first wife.  But he would have like to have been Belle’s.  His body was weary and his eyes heavy as he stripped out of his clothes and crawled under the covers.  The little red book laid innocuously on the pillow next to him and he tucked his hand beneath him to keep from reaching for it. But his will had always been compromised when dealing with Belle.  His desire to know her even just a wee bit better urged him to open the book.  Perhaps just one entry.  One from the beginning before he’d ever made that deal with her, before she’d been drawn into the queen’s clutches and turned into a spy.  He propped himself on his pillows, rested the little book on his bare chest and began to read.

 

 

_Journal Entry 5 th of August_

_Today is my birthday.  I can’t seem to find any joy at the prospect of celebrating my birthday with my friends and countrymen dying on the battlefield trying to push the ogres back.  Papa presented me with this new journal since the other has been filled for a while now.  I know he means well, but I will not condone revelry until the war comes to an end._

_I also could have done without his newest decree.  Now that I am eighteen, he wishes for me to marry.  It doesn’t matter that I do not wish to marry.  I am a princess and I must do my duty.  I must marry and produce an heir for the throne.  In other words, I must be some man’s property and become a brood mare for his sons.  This is not the life I wanted for myself.  I want to see the world, have an adventure and perhaps find someone I can love, someone who will treat me as his equal.  I don’t want to be a possession.  I want to be an equal partner to someone…it’s only a dream.  I fear there will never be anyone in the realm who can love me like that.  True love is a fairytale meant to encourage the imagination of children, not to be sought by a woman of eighteen and should know better._

_People have been telling me all my life that I need to get my head out of the clouds…or better yet, out of my books.  They think me odd because I would rather spend an afternoon reading than learning to sew or dance or any of the many courtly duties I must attend.  Papa says my books are filling my head with ideas that are better suited to scholars, that I am just a princess with her own role in life. Bah!  I don’t want to be a princess!_

 

        Rumpelstiltskin fought to hold his eyes open, fighting the drowsiness the weighed heavily on his eyelids and threatened to make them slam closed for the next six hours at the very least.  He was fascinated by his Belle’s looping elegant scrawl on the pages relating her life in her own words and he wanted to read more, to know more about her.  In the next moment he was cursing himself.  He needed to stop thinking of her as his.  She wasn’t his, had never been his and even if she was the most innocent maid in the realm, completely cleared of any duplicity, she’d never want him after he’d so callously booted her from his home.  Instead, he tried to concentrate on her next entry.

 

 

_Journal Entry 6 th of August_

_Gaston has returned from the front for three days at the very least.  I’ve missed him terribly.  After all, having my dearest friend leading our armies against an unstoppable mass of ogres is not how I wish to have him spend his days.  I just wish he would cease pestering me to marry him._

_He embraced me in a hug that threatened to rob me of breath in his excitement.  “I have missed you so much, Belle.  I’m so sorry I couldn’t be here for your birthday,” he said to me.  I could tell he was sincere and it made me uncomfortable to see the longing in his gaze._

_“I’ve missed you as well, Gaston.  I am quite relieved that you have returned at all,” I told him, leading him over to sit on the stone bench beneath our plum tree.  We had planted it in our seventh year together in the palace garden, under the watchful eyes of my papa and it was our designated spot.  Many a time when he sought to escape his father’s strictures he would meet me under our tree and find solace in my company.  It was only of late with the threat of war that he’d decided that he was in love with me._

_“Have you given any thought to my proposal, my darling?” he asked._

_“I cannot marry you, Gaston.”_

_“Whyever not?”_

_“Because when you kiss me, I feel like I’m kissing my brother…er…if I had one,” I tried to explain.  “I just don’t love you in that way.  You are my best friend and I do love you, but I don’t have passion or desire for you.”_

_He sat down heavily on the bench and shrugged, smiling sadly at me.  “Many marriages begin without love.  Perhaps if we gave it a chance to grow?” he suggested hopefully._

_I ushered him back into the castle, eager to change the subject.  I didn’t want what little time we had to spend together tarnished by talk of a marriage that wasn’t going to happen.  As much as I care for him, I can’t imagine his touch on my skin, his lips caressing my own or his body pressing into mine._

        Rumpelstiltskin huffed a tiny giggle.  So, Gaston must have been the oaf that had tried so valiantly to protect Belle that night in her father’s war room.  The boy had been in love with her.  But his Belle didn’t want to settle for an arranged marriage.  She wanted to marry for love.  It made him wonder if she would have accepted his suit if he’d asked. No! No, no, no, no, no.  He would not be treading down that road tonight.  He skimmed over the next few entries until he came to one that caught his interest.

 

_Journal Entry 10 th of September_

_Papa has fallen ill.  He is expected to recover but I fear the illness has frightened him terribly.  He has decreed that Gaston and I are to be married.  He fears that if he does not force my hand, I will never choose a husband and produce an heir for the throne.  My fears have been realized, but all of my protests fall on deaf ears.  Of course, Gaston is insanely ecstatic that his dreams are coming true and that he’ll forever have me in his life and in his bed, bound to him for eternity.  Blech!  It almost feels incestuous.  How can that be right?  I fear that the bonds of our friendship will suffer if I am forced to go through with this marriage.  Why can’t he see that I am not in love with him?  He is a good and decent man, one who deserves to have his wife love him with all her heart.  Not one who can offer him naught but friendship.  What if marriage ruins what we do have and we end up hating each other.  I don’t want to become bitter and resent him for something that isn’t even his fault.  Life isn’t fair!_

Rumpelstiltskin smiled.  He could very well imagine her stamping her dainty little foot in a fit of temper.  Laying the book down across his chest, he rubbed wearily at his tired eyes.  He longed for sleep to claim him and grant him peace from the thoughts that plagued him and the too real absence of his caretaker.  He missed her so much.  The castle, enchanted as it was, seemed to feel just as depressed as her master, a dark pall having fallen over the corridors.  Even the torches didn’t seem to glow as brightly as when she’d been here.  Why did she have to betray him?  He let his eyes slipped closed as the dam of tears spilled form against his will.  Unable to resist a moment longer, he succumbed to sleep, Belle’s journal clutched tightly to his chest.


	2. Chapter 2

No, he didn’t want to suffer through it again.  The battle between the waking world and his subconscious waged behind his eyelids and he had no choice but to wallow in the fallout, his heart left to be cleaved from his chest from the pain.  How many times would he be forced to relive it?  How much more of the exquisite torture would he have to endure?

_He’d missed her so badly, having been gone for several days on a deal to the north.  The desire to see her, to hear her laugh, to gift her with the prized Andrazean chocolates that she so favored was overwhelming as he rushed home to be with her, his Belle.  She was on the terrace, the view of the mountains in the distance having captured her gaze and she hadn’t yet sensed his presence.  He couldn’t help but wonder what had her so lost to her own thoughts, and selfishly he hoped that it was thoughts of him that had her so distracted._

_Elation the likes of which he had never experienced crashed over him as she whispered, “Oh, Rumpel, I wish you would come home.”  And it_ was _home,_ she _was his home.  Before, the Dark Castle had just been a place to store his treasures, a place to intimidate the many desperate souls who sought his help.  But Belle had brought light and love into the dark and forbidding stones and made it a home.  His heart was near to bursting with love for her and it was difficult to school his features into something resembling cool control._

_“Be careful what you wish for, dearie,” he said, his voice losing the impish shrillness and resembling the voice he himself hadn’t heard in centuries, the voice he’d had as a human before taking on the Dark One’s curse.  With Belle, it was becoming increasingly more and more difficult to maintain the façade of the Dark One.  With Belle, he just wanted to be Rumpelstiltskin and hope that it would be enough for her, that his love would be enough to keep her by his side._

_Her steps were hurried as she moved across the length of the terrace, never slowing until she had her arms around him and her face buried in the crook of his neck, her grip fierce as though she had feared that he would never return to her.  “Oh, Rumpel…”_

_He couldn’t restrain himself this time, his arms lifting to wrap around his beloved.  He was tired of hiding his feelings from her, tired of running from her affection, tired of being afraid and he rested his head atop her crown and breathed her in.  “What’s this, my Belle?  I was only gone for two days.  Surely you didn’t miss me.”_

_She snuggled deeper into his embrace, reveling in the fact that he wasn’t pushing her away.  “Can’t I miss my master when he’s gone?” she asked, a teasing note in her bell-like voice, the sound a soothing caress to his auditory senses._

_But he wasn’t her master, not any longer, not since the day he’d sent her to the village for straw expecting her never to return.  He could still remember standing at the window in his laboratory watching the road for hours, cursing himself for trying to do the right thing by letting her go and then experiencing the sheer joy of having her return to him.  “I’m not your master,” he said, the husky timbre of his voice sending gooseflesh peppering along the skin of her exposed arms.  “I set you free.”_

_Belle lifted her head from his shoulder, her eyes dewy, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she fought for words to convey the wealth of emotion that graced her lovely face.  “But you kept my heart.”_

_Before she could duck her head and hide herself from him once more, he quickly dipped his head and captured her lips with his own.  How could he not when she had not in so many words just claimed to love him,_ him _, the Dark One, the dealmaker, the beast of the Dark Castle.  She had seen through the darkness and discovered the man he had once been, the man he wished to be once more…for her, always for her.  He was consumed by her, her scent, the press of her curves to his lean lines, the taste of her on his lips, was more than he’d ever hoped for.  But before he could deepen the kiss, she was pushing him away and he couldn’t understand why, or why he was suddenly so dizzy._

_“Rumpel, wait!  No!” she cried, covering her mouth with her hands, hands that trembled in her upset.  Her eyes were clouded with dismay and she reached out to steady him._

_“What’s happening?” he asked, confused and dizzy and shaking with weakness._

_“She was right.  True love’s kiss can break any curse,” she said, amazed at the transformation beginning to take place on his features._

_The spinner, his human persona, disappeared in a flash to be consumed by the darkness, the Dark One shrieking to the forefront, alarmed and absolutely furious that this mere slip of a girl had dared to trick him.  “Who told you that?  Who knows that?” he railed at her, his hands tightening on her upper arms, his fingers bruising her tender flesh._

_“I don’t know who she was.  She stopped me on the road the day you sent me to the village for straw and told me about true love’s kiss,” she tried to explain, wincing at the pain from his merciless grip.  “I’ve been so frightened to kiss you, afraid that I would lose…”_

_“You betrayed me!  How long have you been the queen’s spy?  She sent you here to destroy me!  It’s all been one big lie!”  he raged, dragging her along behind him to the passageway that led to the bowels of the castle and the long row of cells in the dungeon.  “I can’t believe I trusted you.”_

_“Rumpel, please, I love you.  And I know you love me too, otherwise the kiss wouldn’t have worked.  Please!”  She pleaded with him to listen to her, but he was too far gone to hear her.  The Dark One had asserted a firm foothold in the body he inhabited and her anguished pleas fell on deaf ears, the trust he’d had in her destroyed.  He tossed her into the cell and closed the door behind him in disgust, unable to flee her presence quickly enough._

_She pounded on the cell door, her broken voice following him back up the staircase.  “Rumpelstiltskin!”_

He knew what came next, but he didn’t remember the pounding…pounding…pounding…

Rumpelstiltskin sat bolt upright in bed, grabbing his head in both hands and groaning.  Someone was trying to get through the gates of the castle and they were being rather persistent.  He flung the blankets away from him where they’d gathered at his waist and dressed with a flick of his wrist.  He dressed in the thick dragon hide armor that he wore for deal-making.  No longer would he wear the softer apparel that he’d grown accustomed to while Belle had lived with him.  Never again would he leave himself vulnerable to deception and skullduggery.  He left his bedroom ready to do battle.

 

XOOOX

 

        Something the Dark One prided himself on was the fact that he was never wrong.  Most of the time.  Belle would be the first…and probably the only person in existence…to disagree.  But the dream had made him rethink what he’d seen with his very eyes.  His dream-Belle had been worried and upset that his curse was breaking, but the real-Belle had been disgustingly happy at the prospect of restoring his humanity…hadn’t she?  He did not like doubting himself.  Was the dream just an illusion of actual events, and if so, which was he to believe?  Perhaps the Dark One had seen her as happy because that gave him an excuse to toss her out, to rid himself of her goodness and gain the upper hand once more, to take away the one thing the spinner didn’t want to live without.  The Dark One had always seen the spinner as a threat to his power.  But that didn’t make any sense to him either.  In his own way, the Dark One adored Belle just as much as the spinner did, although for entirely different reasons…darker and much more carnal reasons that the spinner refused to dwell upon just then.

        The pounding at the gates hadn’t ceased in his trek through the castle.  Someone certainly had a death wish this morning and he could think of only two people annoying enough to torment him so.  That was why he’d decided to take his time and walk the distance to the gates instead of magicking himself there in an instant.  He climbed the tall ladder up to the top of the battlements overlooking the gates and looked down.

        “What the hell are you doing, hatter?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest and raising an imperious brow.

        Jefferson was laid out in the grass to the left side of the cobbled path, propped on his elbow and flicking playing cards into his hat.  He flicked another and it bounced off the wards set around the castle and then into the hat.  The hatter smiled up at him, his pearly teeth blinding in the sunlight and his sharp grey eyes full of mischief.  The cards innocently touching the wards explained the pounding.  “When you didn’t answer my knock, I figured I’d just wait until you were receiving guests,” he answered dryly.

        With a flourish of his hand, Rumpelstiltskin opened the gates and climbed down from the battlements to walk inside with the man.  He found that he could much rather tolerate Jefferson and his quirky eccentricities than Regina and her maliciousness this morning.  He might even offer him tea if he had interesting news to impart.  The thought of the little red leather bound book resting on his bed changed his mind.  He had other things more pressing to occupy him today.  He led the hatter through the front door and into the Great Hall.  Thankfully, the room had been set to rights and he wouldn’t have anything to explain to Jefferson.

        “So what do you want?” he asked, dropping down into his chair at the head of the table and leaving his guest to stand awkwardly next to the fire.  He knew he was being rude, but at the moment he couldn’t seem to make himself care.  Being a good host wasn’t that important in the absence of his Belle.

        “I was in the area and thought I would stop in to see Belle.  Where is she, by the way?” he asked, toying with the trinkets on the mantle above the stone hearth.

        Rumpelstiltskin ground his teeth together.  Jefferson knew he didn’t like to have his things touched, which was why he was doing it.  He enjoyed pushing the Dark One’s buttons.  “Belle isn’t here.”

        “Where is she?”

        “Elsewhere.”

        Jefferson’s brows disappeared somewhere in the vicinity of his hairline and he rocked back on his heels, preparing himself for the imp’s latest word game.  “So…not in the castle?”

        “Yes.”

        “Yes she’s in the castle or yes she’s not in the castle?  Speak up, Rumpel,” he admonished.

        “Belle doesn’t bloody well live here anymore.  There, ya happy?!” he growled conjuring a tea tray with a steaming pot, his chipped cup and one from an older set he didn’t use anymore.

        “Uh…where are the rest of the cups?  That’s Belle’s favorite set,” he said, dropping three sugar cubes into the plain white cup and pouring tea in after it.  He was biding his time on asking any more questions about Rum’s little maid at the moment.

        “They may have met with an accident,” Rumpelstiltskin said, concentrating all his attention on preparing his own cup.  He frowned, realizing there were no orange slices on the tray.  Belle favored them with her tea.  _Damnit, I have to stop thinking of her!_  he thought in vexation, his grip tightening on his cup near to breaking.

        “This is awful,” Jefferson complained as he took a sip.  “What did you do to it?  It doesn’t taste like the blend Belle uses.”

        Rumpelstiltskin took a hesitant sip and cringed.  The hatter was right.  He never had been able to perfect Belle’s perfect combination of leaves and now he had to suffer for that too.  He doubted she would welcome a visit from him to inquire over her recipe.  She’d probably crack her own teapot over his head for his gall.  “Just drink your bloody tea, hatter.”

        Jefferson perched his hip against the dining table and quirked a brow.  “So…where did she go?  Did you send her off to visit her family or some such?  When will she be back?  I had promised to escort her to the market next time I paid her a visit.”

        Rumpelstiltskin avoided the hatter’s searching gaze, preferring to stare into the contents of his cup, his thumb caressing the chip in the rim, his thoughts straying to the night she’d chipped the cup in his hand.  The same night that he’d brought her home to the Dark Castle and startled her with his quip.  He briefly wondered if she’d mentioned that in her journal.

        “She’s not coming back, hatter.  I sent her home to Avonlea for good,” he said, brushing it off as if it were of little importance.

        Jefferson gaped at him, his mouth flapping as he searched for something to say.  He let his temper get the better of him.  “You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?  You just had to go and screw it up!”

        Rumpelstiltskin regarded him, his eyes black with rage, his lips curled over his teeth in a sneer.  “You would do well to mind your tongue, Jefferson, before you lose it,” he snarled.

        Jefferson set his teacup back on the tray, causing the sugar bowl to rattle where it sat next to the pot.  “You’re a fool, Rumpelstiltskin.  Belle loves you, and I know you care for her as well.  How could you send her away?”

        The Dark One growled as he rose angrily to his feet.  “You know nothing!” he hissed, pointing a glowing finger at his associate, magic crackling dangerously through his wiry frame.

        “I know what I see with my own eyes, Rumpelstiltskin.  You’ve thrown away your chance at happiness, and that’s just sad.”  He smoothed down the front of his purple frock coat and threw his hands up in disgust.  “You know where I’ll be if you need me for anything.”

        Rumpelstiltskin glared at Jefferson’s retreating back, feeling hollow as the hatter’s words settled on him.  How happy could he have been with a woman who had betrayed him, a woman he could no longer trust?  And why did it have to hurt so much?

 

XOOOX

 

        He found himself drawn back upstairs to his bedroom several hours later, the lure of the red leather bound journal overwhelming.  Even his wheel hadn’t been able to quell the urge to have his hands on her journal.  And he _had_ tried.  He’d sat down at the wheel, trying in vain to lose himself for a while, trying to push thoughts of his Belle from his mind.  The results had been less than satisfactory, his work rendering clumps of matted twine instead of luxurious gleaming gold thread.  Now she was intruding on his solace.  With a curse, he’d found himself climbing the marble staircase to seek out the cause of his wandering mind.

        Holding the book close to his nose, he breathed in her faint scent that clung to the pages, intermingled with the smell of ink and parchment.  It was so faint, if he didn’t have the heightened senses of the Dark One, he wouldn’t be able to smell her at all.  With a thought, he was standing in her bedchamber where her scent was so strong it nearly brought him to his knees.  This was where he needed to be as he read her words, this is where he felt he could be near her, feel her.  He climbed into the center of her unmade bed and pulled her pillow over his face, breathing in her floral scent that clung to the fabric and choking back a sob, the weight of his loneliness, loneliness and despair for his Belle, crushing the breath from his lungs.

        He stared at the book in his hands, hesitantly reaching out to open the cover, the digits trembling.  He had to stop doing this to himself, it was over and she was gone, out of his life forever, but he couldn’t seem to help himself as he found the last entry he’d left off the night before.

 

_Journal entry 12 th of September_

_My papa can be such a stubborn ass sometimes!  How he ever attained the sovereignty, I will forever wonder.  He would listen if I had been born male, he wouldn’t have a choice.  Just because I am a woman does not mean that my opinion is inconsequential.  I’m so mad I could spit…not that I would, of course…just think of the scandal.  Princess spits!  How revolting._

 

        Rumpelstiltskin could feel his face breaking into a smile as he imagined the fit of giggles she must have been trying to contain.

 

_I needed that.  There have been too few opportunities to laugh of late.  The ogres are advancing once more and I fear for the state of our kingdom.  I fear for our citizens and their families.  How am I to make papa see that we have no other choice.  We are at our end.  Even the fairies won’t come to our aid.  We have no other recourse but to call on the Dark One.  Tomorrow I will speak with Gaston.  At least he will heed my advice where papa won’t.  Perhaps I can convince him to speak with papa and persuade him to call upon the Dark One.  In the meantime, I will research the dark sorcerer to glean any information that might help with our dealings with him._

_He will demand a hefty price to rid us of the ogres and I need to prepare myself._

        A hefty price indeed, he thought glumly.  He continued to read as the sun reached its zenith, ignoring everything else that demanded his attention in favor of his Belle’s words.

 

_Journal entry 21 st of September_

_It took nearly ten days to get through to my papa, but Gaston finally convinced him to call on Rumpelstiltskin.  The letter was sent today, promising him what gold we have in the kingdom in exchange for his aid.  Papa is rather thick, I think.  It is written that the Dark One spins straw into gold.  What need of gold would he have?  He’s never going to agree to this.  Besides, for what we are asking of him, he will surely demand something more precious than gold.  I only pray that we will be able to meet his price.  He will be here in three days’ time, according to his reply.  That should give me time to think of something._

_Journal entry 23 rd of September_

_I think I’ve really done it this time!  Rumpelstiltskin came just as he’d promised and I was right yet again.  He demanded a price that my father wasn’t willing to pay.  Gaston nearly had a stroke!  Of all the things to ask for…he asked for me.  I knew for certain that he wouldn’t want the gold in our coffers, but to ask for a human being in exchange for his aid was not quite what I was expecting._

_Avonlea is safe from the horde.  Rumpelstiltskin banished the lot of them to the Infinite Forest and rid the land of their threat.  My people are safe and unharmed.  The soldiers on the battlefield will be returning to their families.  How could I not agree to go with the Dark One in exchange for such a gift?  I will be brave and I will endure…for my family and for my friends.  Rumpelstiltskin wants a caretaker for his estate.  He didn’t, however, mention that his estate was a bloody huge castle!  How am I ever to clean such a monstrosity?  Our own castle could fit several times within these walls._

_He has asked very little of me…surprisingly.  It is surprising, because he isn’t known for a kind nature.  Although I’m certain he could have done a bit better than showing me directly to the dungeon.  I gave him my word that I wouldn’t try to escape, but I’m afraid my word must mean little to him if he insists on locking me away.  There are so many treasures on display in his home, it makes me wonder if I am to be just another of his possessions, unworthy of human care, one to be locked away and disregarded._

_I was told we are very high in the mountains that border the Forestlands.  I can only assume that winter comes early this high up in the mountains.  It’s so very cold and dark in this cell.  I barely have enough light to make this entry, having only the one candle.  But I must be thankful that I was able to bring my journal with me at all.  I do hope if he plans to leave me here that he will at least provide a blanket to ward off the chill.  I won’t be able to get much work done if I freeze to death in my sleep._

        Rumpelstiltskin rested the journal on his chest and thought back to her father’s war room.  She’d been such a surprise to him, hidden as she was behind her lumbering fiancée, trying her best to peek around the oaf’s shoulder to see him.  She was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen with her long chestnut curls and cerulean eyes, eyes so expressive and filled with curiosity.  It made him wonder how those eyes would look filled with desire.  Not that they would ever hold anything but revulsion for him.  He knew she would be a lovely addition to his home, one of his treasures in a vast sea of collectibles.  A treasure to be cared for but not valued more than necessary, one to be traded if need be.  He didn’t expect her to intrigue and fascinate him to the very depths of his being, nor did he expect her to become so very important to his day to day life.  In a moment of insanity…and perhaps a surge or two of lust…he asked for her, demanded her.  He was lucky the roof hadn’t fallen in on his head from the cacophony of _no’s_ he been bombarded with from the occupants of the war room.

        He’d been ready to leave and let them seek aid elsewhere, had turned to go only to be stopped by that voice, that voice that could only be likened to what an angel might sound like if one was lucky enough to hear one speak.  She’d met his gaze with her own, bravely, defiantly and he’d been lost.  “I will go with him,” she declared amidst the protests of her father and fiancée.  “No one decides my fate but me,” she’d hissed when the oaf had forbidden her to leave with the Dark One.  He should have known then that his life would never again be the same.

        Even when he had clarified his intentions, “It’s forever, dearie,” she had still promised to leave with him.  She’d merely had him reaffirm his promise that her family and friends would live, that they would be safe.  Without batting an eye, she left her home with him for the unknown.  And though he could clearly see her bravery and courage, he could neither see her worth nor her gentle and loving heart.  He’d thrown her in a dank cell and left her to decide later what to do with her.  He truly was a beast, he thought miserably and began to read once more.

 

_I didn’t have to remain in the dungeon for long before he called me upstairs to serve him.  The kitchen…or the room posing as a kitchen…will be the first thing in this tomb I’m going to have to clean.  I don’t think it’s ever seen the good side of a scrub brush.  It makes me wonder where he’s prepared his meals before bringing me here.  Then again, he may resemble a human, but is he really?  Does he even need to eat?_

Rumpelstiltskin snorted and smirked at the pages before him.  He might not need to eat as often as others, but yes it was necessary.  Leave it to his Belle to think such a thing.

 

_It took me a while to find a tea service, a lovely little set with a pretty blue and gold pattern.  Not quite what I would expect to find in the home of the Dark One, but very nice indeed.  I had to scrub about ten years’ worth of dust from the tea kettle as well as the china service, but they cleaned up rather nicely.  I was surprised to find running water from the pump and a well-stocked pantry.  Perhaps he was used to eating foods that didn’t need much preparation and lives out of the food locker._

_My knees shook violently as I entered the hall as he’d instructed, carrying the little tea service and I prayed that I wouldn’t trip and make a complete cake of myself.  I did so want to make a good impression.  It was evident in his smirk that he didn’t hold much faith in my abilities.  My hands trembled as I set about preparing his cup of tea under his watchful eye.  As I did so, he gave me a list of my duties.  I am to serve his meals, clean the Dark Castle, launder his clothes…I don’t even want think about trying to clean that coat he was wearing earlier.  It’s absolutely horrid and I wouldn’t even know where to begin.  I’m also to dust his collection and other such menial tasks, but nothing out of the ordinary.  Or so I thought._

_My new master apparently has a rather morbid sense of humor.  He told me I was to skin the children that he hunts for their pelts.  Of course he got a great laugh at my expense and thankfully it was only a quip.  I would have had to draw the line at such brutality.  But in my surprise, the cup slipped from my hands and crashed against the carpet.  I was so afraid he would be angry.  Just to view his home is to see how meticulous he is about his things. I hated to look up to meet his eyes when I saw the chip in the rim, terrified that he would be angry.  But he wasn’t, more confused really.  He said it was just a cup and brushed it off as a case of first day jitters._

_Perhaps he isn’t so bad after all.  Maybe there’s more to Rumpelstiltskin than I’d realized._

_When I made my sacrifice to leave Avonlea and come with him, I really didn’t think it through.  I was so intent on saving everyone, I didn’t give a thought for myself.  I asked if my friends and my family would be safe, but that didn’t include my own safety.  What if he was cruel or brutal?  What if he had wanted me to warm his bed? But he has been anything but.  I cannot refuse him should he decide he wants me later, but it is nice to know that he doesn’t intend me harm.  Perhaps I may be able to sleep tonight after all.  I will face tomorrow with a steely determination to make the best of what I now have.  And I do have more than others and am extremely grateful._

_Instead of cruelty, I have kindness.  Instead of hunger, I have nourishment.  I have shelter from the elements and the opportunity to see the dawn.  I am blessed and I am thankful._

 

        He closed the journal and pinched the bridge of his nose, ignoring the stinging in his eyes at her words of gratitude.  He’d thrown her in a dungeon without even a blanket to keep her warm and she had been thankful.  He’d taken her away from everyone she loved and cared for and she believed herself to be blessed.  He wondered if he would ever understand her.  The more he read, the more of a mystery she seemed to him, one he was determined to uncover. 


	3. Chapter 3

The carriage slowed as it rolled into the courtyard before the palace that housed the royal family of Avonlea and came to a gentle stop.  Dove hopped down from the driver’s high seat and rapped sharply on the door.  The windows were still shut tightly, the shades remained drawn closed.

        Belle twisted the handkerchief in her fingers and tried to get herself under control.  She’d been crying for nearly three days and once the flood had begun, she’d been unable to stop the flow.  She felt raw, her nerve endings an open wound and she wondered if she would ever be able to close it.  She had finally arrived in Avonlea, her family home somewhere she never would have thought to see again, but she couldn’t find it in her to be happy.  This wasn’t home for her anymore.  Her home was with Rumpelstiltskin at the Dark Castle and she felt nothing but despair as Dove opened the carriage door to let down the steps and help her from the conveyance.

        Her master had been nothing but cruel and callous in his disregard of her feelings and each word he’d slung at her in his anger had cut her a thousand times more than a knife.  Her heart was breaking, a great fissure open and bleeding, more hurtful than if he’d ripped it from her chest and stopped it into the dirt.  It wasn’t a meaningless flirtation that she’d had with him.  It wasn’t some ploy to learn his secrets and report them back to the black queen.  No, it was a true, deep, abiding love that she felt for him and he’d thrown it back in her face like so much rubbish.  She despaired that she would ever recover from his rejection, wanting simply to disappear into her room and hide from the world until it once again made sense to her.  True love was supposed to be beautiful and make one filled with happiness, yet she felt as though a piece of her had been ripped away to leave her bruised and broken.

        “Milady?” Dove asked softly, letting down the steps and holding his hand out to her to assist her down from the carriage.

        Belle drew up the hood of her cloak and accepted his hand, springing lightly to her feet on familiar ground.  She lifted the skirt of the deep sapphire velvet that swathed her petite frame, a gift from her master when she’d come back to him, and moved forward to enter the castle.  The guards at the front entrance stopped her as she made to move over the threshold. 

        “State your business.”

        “I am here to see his majesty, the king,” she said, her voice ragged and rough from days of disuse and more tears than she cared to think about.

        “Do you have an appointment to see him, milady?” the guard asked, guessing that she was someone of importance by her bearing and cultured speech alone.

        Belle was growing impatient.  She didn’t feel well enough to stand about the courtyard bandying questions and answers about with the guards.  “Brutal, move aside and let me pass,” she demanded.

        Sky blue eyes peeked up at him from the hood of her cloak and he gasped.  “No one calls me that except…” He whipped the hood away from her face and upon recognizing her dropped to a knee.  “Highness,” he said respectfully.

        “Hello, Brutus,” she replied, once again drawing the hood back over her head.  “How are you, my friend?  Rise up now before someone takes note and comes to investigate.  I would rather see my papa without a crowd eavesdropping in the corridor.”

        “My apologies, highness.”  He offered his arm to escort her inside.  “I shall take you to him at once.”

        Belle motioned for Dove to follow and took the guards arm, gathering up her dignity and pushing thoughts of Rumpelstiltskin from her mind.  Later, when she was once again ensconced in her room, she would have plenty of time to think of her love and what she had lost.  “You look well, Brutal,” she said to her childhood friend.  “Your family, they are well also?”

        “Aye, highness, they are thriving.  The entire kingdom is thriving due to your sacrifice.  If you hadn’t…”

        “I am happy that my kingdom has flourished in my absence,” she said, her voice wistful.  “Might I ask a small favor?”

        He stopped in the middle of the vacant corridor and turned his gaze to her.  “Anything at all, highness.”

        “I would like to see my papa and Gaston alone if at all possible.  I don’t want to have to face anyone else right now, Brutal, and the ministers and clerics that keep his counsel would only ask questions that I’m not prepared to answer right now.”

        “I will see to it,” he said with a smile and escorted her to the rose garden instead of to the throne room, leaving her and Dove there to wait.

        Belle sank down onto the stone bench beneath her plum tree and gestured for Dove to join her.  “Oh, no, milady, I couldn’t.”

        “Thank you, Teddy, for seeing me safely home,” she said, her voice quavering slightly from disuse, using the nickname she’d chosen for him months before when she’d been introduced to the gentle giant of a man.  “I will have someone gather provisions for your return trip once I am able to speak to my papa.”

        “That isn’t necessary, milady.  It was a pleasure to be of service,” he murmured with downcast eyes and a courtly bow that was odd coming from a peasant.  No doubt, too much time spent in Rumpelstiltskin’s presence.

        “You’ll watch over him, won’t you?” she asked, feeling the prickle of tears begin behind her eyes.  “Check in on him and see that he eats.  He is terribly absent minded when he’s concentrating on a new deal.  And he sometimes loses days at a time while working in his tower.”  She caught her lower lip between her teeth and chewed thoughtfully to keep it from trembling.  “Please, would you do that for me?”

        “If I may be so bold, milady, he isn’t deserving of your continued kindnesses,” Dove protested.  “But I shall do as you wish.”  He stepped quickly in front of her as a door on the terrace burst open and a tall knight hurriedly made his way into the garden.

        “Belle!”

        “It’s alright, Teddy, he’s my friend,” she explained, rising to her feet and pushing the hood of her cloak back to rest against her shoulders.  “Gaston,” she shrieked as her former fiancée rushed forward and swung her up into his arms, twirling her about amidst her protests and kissing her cheek with a loud smack.

        “Gods, Belle!  It’s so wonderful to see you,” he exclaimed, pulling her over to the bench and urging her to sit beside him.  “What are you doing here?  Did the Dark One give you permission to visit?  How long will you be able to stay with us?  Your father is going to be thrilled.”

        “Gaston…”

        “We never thought we would see you again and here you are…”

        “Gaston!” she said with a laugh as he hugged her once more in his excitement.  “Please, do control yourself!”

        “Belle, my darling girl…”

        Belle froze at that voice and glanced up from her exuberant friend to meet eyes very much like her own and her heart clenched.  The dam of emotion that she had been holding in check collapsed and she extricated herself from her friend’s embrace to run to her father.  “Oh, papa,” she cried, burying her face in his tunic, sobbing fiercely as his arms went around her to envelop her in his warm embrace.

        “Oh, my Belle, you’ve come home.  You’re really here.  I don’t believe it,” Maurice cried, his own tears falling against her unbound chestnut tresses.  “I can’t believe my girl has finally come back to us.”

        Belle twisted her fingers in his tunic and cried harder at his heartfelt words.  She’d been so afraid that he would reject her after the months she’d spent with Rumpelstiltskin.  “C-Can I stay, p-papa?  Can I come home?” she asked, her tears soaking the front of his tunic and staining the fabric with salt.

        “Of course, my darling.  This is your home and no one will deny your right to be here.  But why have you returned?  The imp said it was to be forever.”

        Gaston rose from the bench and ushered Dove inside to give Maurice time alone with his daughter.  He would see to the man’s needs, the least he felt he was able to do for the man since he’d brought their princess safely home.  Belle dropped onto the bench and let her father tuck her into his side, her head on his shoulder. 

        “Please don’t worry that the deal has been broken, papa.  Rumpelstiltskin will keep his word and the ogres will not return.”  The mention of his name caused the tears to begin again in earnest, the pain more than she felt she could bear. 

        “I couldn’t care less about the bloody ogres right now, Belle.  I want to know why you are so distressed.  You act as though it pains you to be here.”

        “H-He doesn’t…doesn’t w-want…me,” she wailed against Maurice’s shoulder, her words barely registering on him they were so hard to make out.  “H-He thinks…he thinks I-I’ve b-betrayed him.”  She gripped the front of her father’s tunic and cast her eyes up to meet his, the jewel-bright orbs pleading with her father to understand.  “I would never.”

        “Of course you wouldn’t, daughter.  You have always been loyal to those you serve to a fault,” he assured her, stroking her hair in an effort to calm her.

        “I love him, papa, and he sent me away.  He doesn’t want me anymore.  And I swear to you I didn’t betray him,” she said, giving in once more to the sobs that threatened to break her.

        Maurice held her close and rocked her in his arms, his darling broken daughter having come home to the solace that only a parent can offer.  He vowed that he would let no harm come to her and sent off servants in every direction to see to preparing her room and a quiet supper for the two of them to celebrate her homecoming in private.  He would get to the bottom of the horrid state of his child and work towards making her better.  She would need his support if he ever hoped to have her smile at him again and it would be the very last time he ever asked for magical assistance of any kind if the consequences were to see his daughter left in such a state.

        “It will be alright, my girl, papa’s got you.  We’ll make everything right again.  You’re safe here, sweetheart,” he crooned softly against the crown of her sweet-smelling hair.  “I promise all will be well.”

        “But I love him, papa,” Belle sobbed brokenly.  As much as she loved her father, she didn’t want to accept his comfort and his platitudes that she would heal.  She didn’t want to be here in her familial home surrounded by her father and her friends.  She didn’t want to resume the life that she’d been so grateful to escape when she’d bartered her life away to save her kingdom.  She just wanted Rumpelstiltskin and the love that he was denying them both with his rage, his cowardice and his stubborn refusal to see the truth.

 

XOOOX

 

        Rumpelstiltskin paced before the great stone hearth in the Great Hall, his gaze continually drawn to the little red journal that sat innocently on the long dining table.  She’d left it to distract him.  There was no other reason.  How could such a tiny little book so thoroughly destroy his concentration?  It was keeping him from more important concerns.  He had a curse to complete, a queen to toy with and a princess to aid in her path to true love.  There were so many more dire pursuits that required his immediate attention.  He _did not_ have time for this.

        He found himself inching towards the table, his hand reaching for the little book only to snatch it back with a curse.  It somehow felt wrong that he was privy to her innermost thoughts and feelings.  He’d felt lower than the belly of a snail after reading about her first night in his castle and he didn’t know if he was quite ready for what she had in store for him next.  But he wasn’t able to stop himself from plopping down in his favorite chair to read the next entry against his will.

 

 

_Journal entry 25 th of September_

_I can honestly say that I have never been so exhausted in my life._

        He slammed the book shut and tapped his blackened claws against the polished wood surface of the table.  Now he felt guilty because he’d worked the poor girl to exhaustion.  Had he been alone so long that he was unable to grasp the concept of basic human kindness?  Belle had been a spur of the moment decision, a distraction to ease the loneliness of his existence.  For so long his focus had been a way to find his way back to his son, his only visitors being the desperate souls in search of his help, the hatter and that vicious little harpy he needed to cast his curse.  He dropped his chin into his hand and toyed with a stray thread on the armrest of his chair.  In no way was he supposed to fall in love with a princess so far above his station in life that he needed a ladder to be able to kiss her delicate toes.  He flipped open the cover of the little journal and found his place, cursing himself once more for being a glutton for punishment.

 

 

_Really, you would think being the most powerful sorcerer in the realm, he could use a wee bit of magic to keep his home clean._

        Rumpelstiltskin quirked a brow in annoyance.  “Really, dearest?  I had to give you _something_ to do.  What did you think you were going to do while living here, lay about eating chocolates?”

 

_Not that I mind.  The tasks he’s assigned me keep me busy which makes the day go by quickly.  I especially like being able to experiment with meals in the kitchen.  The time that I spent under the watchful eye of Mrs. Potts in our kitchens at home has certainly come in handy.  My master was quite surprised to find that I have a bit of talent in that area…even though he was reluctant to comment on it.  Once the castle has undergone a thorough cleaning, I’m hoping I might have some spare time to bake a dessert…perhaps Papa’s favorite chocolate cake with raspberry syrup.  Rumpelstiltskin might like it as well._

He frowned and looked down at his stomach as it let out a resounding growl.  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten.  Had he eaten since he’d returned to the castle from that deal, since he’d sent Belle away?  Did it really matter?  Any food he ate would probably turn to ash in his mouth without his love to share it with.

 

_I’ve been here a week now and I have found other reasons to weaken my resolve to remain positive.  If I don’t find a way to get a bath soon, I just may revolt.  And this dress…if I had known it would become a permanent fixture in my life, I would have chosen something a bit more comfortable.  I believe if I took it off, it would be able to walk by itself.  I may have to swallow my pride and ask my master for something else to wear.  I wouldn’t even care if it was a burlap sack._

_Journal Entry 29 th of September_

_That sneaky little imp!  I would happily bludgeon him with a frying pan if I didn’t fear the thought of being turned into a snail.  Don’t ask about that poor man that came seeking aid yesterday.  After my master squished him…ew!...The rug in the Great Hall will never be the same._

_Where was I?  Oh, yes.  There is a hot spring in the very bowels of the castle…yes, this place goes even deeper than the level the dungeon is on.  I happened on it by mistake when I noticed the steam seeping beneath a door not too far from my own cell.  The waters are deliciously hot and I can’t wait to have a bath.  Just the prospect of being clean lifts my mood considerably._

        Oh, did she have to mention the spring?  He felt the leathers strain noticeably across his groin as he remembered the day in question and he shifted uncomfortably at the memory of her naked, glistening form surrounded by the water and steam far below the Dark Castle.  He’d known she was up to mischief when he could find her nowhere in the castle walls.  She wasn’t in the Great Hall dusting, she wasn’t in the kitchen preparing the evening meal, she wasn’t meddling in any of the rooms on the second or third floors and she wasn’t lurking about the corridors outside of his tower.  There was really only one other place she could be if she hadn’t decided to hide herself away in the dungeon.  And really, the dungeon had been a last resort as well, because he just couldn’t see her _wanting_ to spend any more time than necessary in the dank cell he’d allotted her.

        His Belle had looked like a sea nymph, standing waist deep in the pool, her gleaming chestnut hair falling in limp waves over the bare expanse of her back.  All that creamy alabaster skin had just been begging for his touch and his hands itched to roam over her charms so openly displayed before him.  He’d found himself wanting to join her in the water, to mold himself against her back and feel the weight of her breasts in his hands, to hear her gasp of surprise turn to one of pleasure as his lips marked her ivory throat, and to hear his name fall from her lips as he claimed her for his own.  It had been sheer torture to remain hidden in the shadows and watch the happiness spread over her lovely features from the simple act of bathing.

        Her clothes were a little worse for wear and not quite dry when she had served him his dinner that evening and he’d found himself unable to meet her gaze.  For a week afterward he hadn’t been able to keep the heat from his cheeks at the mere thought of how glorious she’d been in the hot spring.  Never had he been so thankful for the unnatural hue of his green-gold skin, thankful that it would hide the deep blushes that plagued him in her presence.  How could he continue to be her overbearing master with a blush riding his cheeks?

 

_Journal Entry 1 st of October._

_My enigmatic master surprised me today and praised me for the cleanliness of his home.  I must say, I wasn’t expecting it.  Today is papa’s birthday and it hasn’t been easy for me to put it from my mind.  I find myself more homesick than ever, but I don’t want Rumpelstiltskin to know.  I want him to think that I’ve come to terms with my fate.  Just sometimes I can’t stop the tears and I succumb against my will._

_I disturbed his spinning with my sobs this evening and he wasn’t at all pleased.  He is apparently unused to having to deal with a weeping woman.  In what I thought was a rare display of charity, he conjured a pillow for me to use in my cell, but it turned out that he merely wished me to use it to muffle my cries.  Insufferable beast!  I’m trying so very hard to please him and at the same time find my place in his home, but I had hoped it wouldn’t be quite so difficult._

 

        Rumpelstiltskin summoned a tea tray and set the journal at his elbow, trying to read and prepare his cup at the time, unwilling to stop reading.  If he’d been paying closer attention, he might not have spilled half his cup in his lap.  He rose sharply to his feet, yowling in pain, brushing frantically at the hot liquid seeping through his breeches.  Thankfully, not a drop had landed on the precious journal.

 

_Someone broke into the Dark Castle.  A thief, no less.  He must be either really brave or really stupid.  Who would have the audacity to steal from the Dark One?  He carried with him a bow endowed with magic, foolishly thinking that it would protect him from Rumpelstiltskin’s wrath.  The poor man has been removed to the dungeon.  I can tell there will not be much sleep in my future._

He snorted over the rim of his tea cup at the memory of Robin Hood and his attempted thievery.  He had to agree with his Belle.  It had been foolish to try to kill the Dark One with only a bow and arrow, endowed with magic or not.  He scowled down at the brew in his cup, once again wishing Belle were there to make him a decent pot of tea…and then perhaps sit in his lap and have a cup with him while he nuzzled at her sweet neck and…”Damnit!”

 

_Journal entry 2 nd of October_

_My beast of a master…the ass!...has been torturing that poor man down there for hours.  It doesn’t matter what the thief did, no one deserves to be tortured.  I don’t know how much longer I will be able to stand idly by in the face of such brutality._

_Later the same day:_

_I think I may have upset Rumpelstiltskin just a wee bit.  What did I do, you might ask?  I may have released his prisoner and he may have…sort of…oh hell!  He bloody well lost his temper and took me with him to hunt the poor man down.  He didn’t have to be so nasty about it._

        When had she had time to write this and why was her handwriting so messy all of a sudden?  Had she written this in the carriage?  So that had been what she was doing while he’d been concentrating on finding their escaped prisoner.  He was beginning to think she was a bit obsessive with recording all the details of her life in a book.  It made him wonder how many other volumes were stashed away in her father’s castle.

 

_This has got to be a show to intimidate me, to make me quail under the force of his power.  He can’t be as dark as they say even with a moniker like the Dark One.  There must be some good in him.  Granted, it would have to be buried really deep down, but I has to be there.  I’ve seen the way he gets lost in his thoughts while spinning at the wheel.  His features soften and there is such a look of sadness in his eyes that it tears at my heart.  I refuse to give up on the idea that there is a man somewhere hidden under the mask of the beast he wears._

        He tossed the journal on the table and buried his head in his hands in despair.  Even when he was at his worst, she had seen good in him.  And he had accused her of betraying him.  What if he was wrong and she wasn’t a tool sent by the queen to weaken him, to destroy him?  No, he couldn’t be wrong, he couldn’t have thrown away his own happiness on a whim.  He was certain that he would uncover her lies in a future entry.  He just needed to keep reading.

 

_I am so tired, but it’s a good type of exhaustion.  The outing today to find the thief proved my theory correct.  He is a man hiding behind the beast.  I showed him that our escaped prisoner had good reason for trying to steal from him, that he needed the wand, needed magic to save the woman he loved.  He was reluctant to admit it, but I know Rumpelstiltskin spared the man’s life so his unborn child wouldn’t have to grow up without his father.  There is a deeper motive that my master is not yet willing to share with me, but I hope one day soon he will wish to let me in enough to trust me with his tale._

_But I must admit, the highlight of my day was the very end. Rumpelstiltskin shared something with me more wonderful than I ever could have imagined.  A library.  His library.  He knows of my fascination with the written word and brought me upstairs to gift me with the pleasure of his wondrous library.  Now when I have some free time, I will have something I enjoy to fill it.  My master is such a mystery and I believe that it is going to be a joy to peel back the layers one at a time until I find what drives him to be as he is.  Perhaps one day I will be able to call him more than master.  Perhaps one day I can call him friend._

The Dark One closed the journal and pressed it to his chest, his arms closing tightly over the tome.  He ignored the tear that trickled from the corner of his eye and whispered one word to echo through the desolate corridors of the Dark Castle.  One precious name, “Belle…”


	4. Chapter 4

“Belle, my girl, I was hoping you would join us this morning.  How are you feeling?” Maurice asked as Belle stopped next to her father’s chair at the head of the table and dropped a kiss to his ruddy cheek.

        Belle smiled wanly and smoothed the skirt of her robin’s egg blue morning gown before taking her place to his right, nodding to Gaston who sat at his left.  “I’m fine, papa.  You need to stop worrying over me,” she said with a sigh as she reached forward and plucked a sweet roll from the slaver before her.  The table was piled high and set for breakfast with everything imaginable that she might desire to eat, but her appetite was near non-existent these last days.

        Gaston shot Maurice a see-what-did-I-tell-you look and poured juice into a goblet to set by her plate.  “So, my Belle, what would you…”

        “Please don’t call me that,” she hissed, closing her eyes briefly and swallowing around the lump in her throat as she felt her heart clench painfully, her hand grasping the fork in her hand until her knuckles turned white.  “I’m sorry, Gaston, please forgive me.  I did not mean to snap at you.”

        “Quite alright, Belle,” he said, reaching across the table to take her free hand and give it a gentle squeeze.  “Would you care to perhaps go riding with me this morning to survey the recent work we’ve been doing with the new irrigation system?  I’m sure Dash would love to see you after your lengthy absence,” he suggested, referring to her prized gelding.

        “I…not today.  I think I would just like to…ah…to rest,” she murmured distractedly, picking at the pastry on her plate.

        Maurice studied her carefully as silence fell between them.  She leaned forward to take her cup in hand and her braid fell from her shoulder, revealing the creamy expanse of her throat.  “Belle, darling, what is that?” he asked, his hand snaking out to grip her chin in his hand and turning her head so he could better see the mark below her left ear more clearly.

        Belle pushed his hand away and covered the spot once more with her hair.  “It’s nothing.”   

        “It is most assuredly something, daughter.”

        Belle toyed with the end of her braid and tried to will her heart to slow.  Her father and Gaston were staring at her with worry and concern in their eyes and she suddenly felt self-conscious to be so on display before them.  “It’s just a small tattoo, nothing to be alarmed about.”

        Gaston’s brows shot up into his hairline, a forkful of eggs suspended halfway to his mouth.  Maurice cocked an eyebrow and stared at her as if she’d just announced she was going to ride naked through the square.  She couldn’t deal with her family this morning.  They meant well and were relieved that she’d finally come out of her room after two days of locking herself away, but she just wasn’t ready to answer any questions about her time in the Dark Castle.  She felt as though she were betraying Rumpelstiltskin by speaking of him.  What had transpired between her and the Dark One would remain between them and them alone.

        “You bear his mark,” Maurice whispered, leaning forward and cupping his hand near his mouth, not wanting the servants to overhear him.  “A gold dragon on a background of red.  Why would he mark you, daughter?”

        She could feel the tears prickling and burning to be shed as the memory washed over her and her lower lip trembled as she turned to her father.  “To protect me.”

        “But, Belle, surely he knew that any who saw that mark would shun you out of fear of his wrath.”

        “Exactly.  The first time he had to leave me alone in the castle to make a deal, he put his mark on me.  He was concerned,” she murmured, fearing her father’s reproach.  “He feared that should someone come to the Dark Castle while he was away and happen upon me…well, he wanted to make certain that I would come to no harm.  I merely have to press my fingers to the mark and think his name to have him come to me,” she said softly, lowering her gaze to her hands twisted upon her lap.  “Even now I remain under his protection.”

        “Belle…”

        “I’m sorry, papa.  I need…”  She fled the table and ran until she was able to flee through the door that led to the rose garden.  She felt wretched, knowing that she possessed the power to summon him and not confident enough to use it, unsure that he would come if she called.  She couldn’t bear his disdain if she summoned him and he rejected her again.  She collapsed upon a patch of grass where she’d be hidden from view of anyone inside.  Only then did she allow herself to succumb to the tears she’d been fighting all morning.

        She remembered the concern in Rumpelstiltskin’s eyes when he’d pressed his thumb to her neck, the warmth of his skin against hers as he’d placed his mark upon her.  A necessity, he’d said, his voice so warm and husky it had caused gooseflesh to spread along her flushed skin, the timbre so unlike the maniacal imp that so enjoyed teasing her.  He was marking his property, that was all, but she had felt something she hadn’t recognized as desire at the time.  Now she knew better and it just made her feel all the worse for it, desiring him, loving him and unable to be with him.

        Why had it all had to fall apart?  Her hands fisted against her mouth as she tried to quell the sobs that threatened to break free of her lips.  “How could you think I betrayed you, Rum?”

 

XOOOX

 

        Rumpelstiltskin yawned widely and tried to focus on the page before him.  He really needed a cup of tea, but refused to contemplate the swill that rested in the cup before him.  He just couldn’t get used to the subpar brew that he was able to conjure.  It had none of the flavor that Belle’s special blend contained and he could just add that to the list of complaints he had about her absence from his life.  He ground his teeth together as a resounding knock reverberated against the front door.  Setting the journal down next to the abandoned tea service, he rose from his chair and strode angrily to the door, his hands crackling with magic to be unleashed upon the interloper.  How dare someone interrupt him?

        His eyes narrowed with menace as he opened the door to find Jefferson leaning a shoulder against the doorjamb, a smug smirk upon his handsome face.  “What the hell do you want, hatter?  I happen to be busy at the moment,” he sneered.

        Jefferson pushed away from the door frame and shrugged noncommittally.  “Just thought I’d pop in for a spot of tea,” he said, shaking the decorative box in his hand.  “Can I come in?”

        Rumpelstiltskin stepped back and waved him inside, brightening slightly at the prospect of a decent cup of tea.  His step faltered, however, as a thought occurred to him.  “That isn’t the same blend you gave Regina, is it?  The one that had her running to the chamber pot for nigh on a week?”

        Jefferson set the box of tea leaves on the dining table and snatched up Belle’s little journal, caressing the leather cover with his nimble fingers.  “Of course not.  I might be a little mad, but I’d have to be really stupid to mess with the Dark One in such a way,” he said, flipping open the cover of the journal and running a long finger over Belle’s elegant penmanship.

        Rumpelstiltskin practically snarled seeing the journal in his associate’s hands.  “I’ll have that back, hatter, if you please,” he hissed, his eyes darkening with malice.

        “Don’t get your leathers in a twist, Rumpel.  I just thought I’d have a peek while you make tea,” he said, holding the book out of the imp’s reach, deliberately taunting him.

        With a twirl of his hand, Jefferson’s lower body from the waist down disappeared into the carpeted floor beneath his feet, making it more than easy to snatch the prized tome from the hatter’s hands.  Without a word, Rumpelstiltskin tucked the journal beneath his arm and hefted the tea tray and the decorative box in his hands and strode purposefully towards the door leading into the kitchens.  Let the hatter stew in his present predicament and learn not to toy with the Dark One.  He was back within the hour, deliberately taking his time and resuming his seat at the table before allowing a conspicuously silent Jefferson his freedom.

        “My, aren’t we in a pleasant mood today,” Jefferson remarked dryly as he added tea to his cup, watching Rumpelstiltskin warily as he perched his hip against the table.  His eyes were drawn to the chipped cup in the imp’s hands.  “Aren’t you afraid of slicing open your lip on that cup?”

        Rumpelstiltskin caressed the rim of his cup almost reverently.  “My cup is none of your concern.  Did you just come to bedevil me with your presence, or did you want something?”

        “No, no, nothing important.  I just thought I’d stop by and see if you’d come to your senses yet,” he said, smiling.  Rumpelstiltskin could see every one of the hatter’s pearly teeth and it irked him greatly. The man was a busy body.

        “Hatter…”

        “How long are you going to keep denying your feelings for the girl?”

        “Hatter…”

        “I’d be happy to fetch her for you.”

        “Jefferson!”

        Jefferson set his cup down, crossed his ankle to rest on his knee and folded his hands to rest over his middle as he sat atop the table.  One of these days he was going to bring his own chair with him.  “Do you really believe…even for a moment…that Belle, our darling, sweet, honest to a fault, Belle…would ever betray you?”

        “Get. Out,” Rumpelstiltskin declared with barely restrained malevolence. 

        Jefferson threw up his hands in surrender, figuring he’d pushed his luck enough for one day.  He hopped down off the table and smoothed the creases from his silk frock coat, bright orange today.  “Very well.  You know where I’ll be when you want to talk.”  He turned to go but stopped at the double doors leading into the foyer.  “You’re welcome for the tea, by the way.”  He dodged a burst of magic and disappeared through the door, leaving a very disgruntled sorcerer behind.

        Rumpelstiltskin settled back in his chair and sipped his tea, savoring the brew for the first time in days.  It wasn’t Belle’s, but it was a vast improvement and helped to chase away the drowsiness that had plagued him since early morning.  He caressed the cover of the journal sitting in his lap and frowned at the thought of the hatter’s hands on Belle’s most personal possession.  She’d entrusted him with her intimate thoughts and Jefferson, no matter how innocent and well meaning, had no right to put his grubby paws on it.

        He opened the book and searched for the place he’d left off, rifling through the pages until he found it.

 

 

_Journal entry 3 rd of October_

_My master has been acting strangely…well, he always acts a little strangely, but this is different.  He’s been staring at me all day and it makes me wonder why.  Have I done something to incur his ire?  I’ve done nothing different in my normal routine today and it just has me in a quandary as to what I might have done to upset him._

_Journal entry 4 th of October_

_I have been liberated from the dungeon!  My master has gifted me with a room above stairs.  I am so delighted, I can barely contain myself.  After tea this afternoon, which he insisted I join him for, he escorted me upstairs and simply stated that I would no longer be required to sleep in the dungeon._

_My room is amazing.  It has a little sitting room where I can lounge before the hearth in my spare time and read.  It’s quite cozy and decorated in beautiful creams and blues.  Much more lovely than my personal sitting room at home.  I also have my own private bathing chamber with a deep porcelain tub that fills with hot water if I but ask.  Sometimes, being a prisoner in an enchanted castle can have its perks.  And there is a cabinet with oils and soaps and creams to smooth the tangles of my hair.  It makes me wonder if he made them himself with his proficiency at making potions.  But why would he do something so generous for his servant?_

_But the bedroom is a dream come true.  The bed is so large that I fear I could easily get lost in it and it’s so soft I could happily stay abed for a week.  Not that I would.  I fear Rumpelstiltskin would not suffer laziness from me.  But it is heaven compared to the misery of my straw pallet in the dungeon.  The sheets are a lovely royal blue silk and the duvet is fit for a queen.  I won’t have to worry about frostbite on my toes with the onset of winter.  There are windows in my room, floor to ceiling windows that will let in the light and afford me a wondrous view of the mountains.  It is just the wardrobe that took my breath away.  It was filled to the brim with dresses and petticoats and underthings and shoes to match.  Why would he give me such fine clothing if I am to be a servant?  What could I possibly have done to please him?  When I asked, he explained that I would henceforth be joining him in the evenings for dinner and he didn’t want me dressed in rags.  But could it possibly be more than that?  Does he now actually desire my company for more than serving him?  Perhaps now he is open to a tentative friendship instead of strictly master and servant.  It would make my life here in the Dark Castle so much easier to bear._

_It gives me hope, hope that the loneliness I’ve been suffering will be no more, hope that I will have someone to share my life with, share my thoughts and dreams with.  Someone who will call me friend and treat me as if I matter.  Someone who doesn’t think me so odd.  I just pray that I am right._

Things were getting more and more complicated as he read.  Why would she want to be friends with an old monster such as he?  He’d been downright awful to her when he’d brought her to the Dark Castle, caring only to his own needs and that she carried out the tasks he assigned for his own personal comfort.  But he came to savor the sounds of someone else in the castle.  He hadn’t given her the room above stairs to see to her comfort.  He’d just wanted to make sure his little investment didn’t freeze to death in the harsh cold that permeated the castle in the winter months.  But she had cherished every bit of kindness he showed her.  She had wanted so desperately to be his companion, his friend and he’d never even realized.  He was a selfish bastard, he thought glumly.

 

_Journal entry 7 th of October_

_My master has forbidden me access to the vast garden to the rear of the castle.  He says he doesn’t want me to freeze to death playing in the dirt, that I should save it for spring.  But I long to be out in the fresh mountain air.  It doesn’t serve me well to be cooped up inside when I’ve never had to do so before.  I miss my gelding, Dash.  I miss riding through the fields with Gaston at my side enjoying the sunshine on my skin.  But I will obey.  I have no other choice.  Things are nice at present, my relationship with my master one of a budding friendship and I don’t want to take the chance that I might mess it up by being disobedient.  I feel I don’t know him well enough at least._

_I am, however, allowed to go into the little courtyard off the kitchen to do laundry and tend to the little vegetable garden I’ve managed to salvage.  Unfortunately, when the snows set in, it will be frozen over in no time.  I need to hurry with the washing today.  I want to make a cake for my master to thank him for his generosity with the gift of my room.  I hope to coax a smile from him at the very least._

He set the book down in his lap, his stomach growling in protest as he remembered the sumptuous meals she’d prepared in the warm kitchen she’d claimed as her domain.  He remembered all too well the little cake she’d made that night for him.  Before he’d taken on the Dark One’s curse, there had never been any extra coin to splurge on the extravagance of such things and never had he eaten one with the light and delicate frosting she’d covered the confection in.  It was one of the nicest things anyone had ever done for him, the first of many made by his Belle.

        He summoned a tray of bread and cheese and some cured ham from the food locker and set about eating the cold fare with a frown knitting his brow.  His thoughts strayed to her, wondering if she was safe and warm in her home, wondering if she was being treated well by her father and friends and wondering if she was getting enough to eat.  No matter that she had betrayed him, he still loved her and worried over her well-being.

        Perhaps he could pop in to check on her, to assure himself that she was well.  Would she even want to see him after what he had done?  She simply had to summon him to her if she wanted to see him, after all.  No, it was for the best that he leave her to her life.  She was better off, he thought morosely.  He skimmed through the next few pages, reading quickly of her days spent in the Dark Castle, searching for anything pertaining to him or time spent in his company.

 

_Journal entry 25 th of November_

_Rumpelstiltskin is leaving me this afternoon to see to a deal.  I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about being left alone in the castle.  It will be the first time since I’ve been here that he will be gone.  What if someone comes here while he’s away?  I must be brave.  I can’t let him see how frightened the thought of his absence makes me._

_Later that same day:_

_I’m staring in the mirror at this mark on my neck and I really don’t know what to think about it.  My master claimed that it would protect me.  There is no doubt in my mind that the golden dragon branded into my flesh is made of his very own gold.  His mark, a golden dragon on a red background, there for all to see.  He assured me that any who see it will know that I belong to him…forever.  Rumpelstiltskin said if I find myself in trouble that I am merely to press my fingers to the mark and think of him.  It will supposedly bring him directly to me.  His way of assuring my protection._

_But I find myself vastly disturbed by my reaction to his touch.  I’ve never felt anything like it before.  When he pressed his thumb to my neck, it felt as though a thousand butterflies had taken flight in my belly.  It wasn’t an altogether frightening feeling, nor was it unwelcome…just rather alarming?_

_It makes me wonder what it would feel like to have his hands on other parts of me.  I felt so warm with his fingers caressing the skin beneath my ear and I could feel myself moving closer to him, needing to be closer to him.  And there was something hidden within the depths of his eyes that I had never seen before…but what?  It’s maddening to feel so confused.  What is happening to me?  Could I be attracted to my master?_

 

        Rumpelstiltskin ran a frustrated hand through his hair and gently laid the journal on the table, pushing his chair back and rising to his feet.  Had he really been so blind to what she was feeling for him even then?  How could he not have seen what was right there before him?  He could no longer deny her feelings, they were staring him in the face in her own hand.  He just wanted to know how Regina had gotten to her and brought everything crashing down around them.  He moved to the mirror in the corner of the Great Hall and whipped the drape from its frame.  He needed to see her, to gaze on her lovely face and see for himself that she was all right.  He touched his index finger to the beveled glass, watching it ripple and shift, waiting for his command.  He swallowed nervously, hesitating.  It was torture to think about seeing her.  What if she was hurt or in pain…

        “Show me my Belle,” he commanded, waiting impatiently for the mirror to obey his command.  His fingers rubbed together across his thumb in his worry, itching to spring into action if need be.

 

XOOOX

 

        Belle stared into the flickering flames quietly crackling away in the hearth, savoring the warmth of the heat spreading through her sitting room.  It was late spring and the Marchlands were warm, almost balmy, but she found herself constantly craving the heat of a fire.  She was cold inside and nothing but the return of her love would ever be able to warm her, she feared.  Even now, in the glow of twilight, she craved nothing more than to curl up on the settee in the parlor of the Dark Castle and lose herself in a book, Rumpelstiltskin’s fingers running idly through her hair.  A single tear trailed its way over her ashen cheek and she brushed it away angrily.  She was tired of weeping.  She’d shed more than her fair share of tears over circumstances that she would never be able to change.

        She glanced at the door, a soft knock drawing her attention.  It was opened from the outside by Gaston, her maid following behind him with a tea service.  “I thought you might like a cup?” he said, hesitating in the doorway, unsure of his welcome.  “Might I come in and sit with you for a bit?”

        Belle tried to smile, but it came out more as a grimace and she wanted to kick herself for the melancholy state she found herself in.  It wasn’t his fault that her heart had been broken.  He’d been nothing but supportive and attentive of her since her return.  “Of course, Gaston, please come in and sit with me.”

        He moved to sit next to her, a warm familiar presence making her think that tonight was no different from the other hundreds of times they’d taken tea in her sitting room.  He, unlike her father, had always tried to show interest in her conversations about the books she read, how boring she found sewing and dancing and other courtly pursuits.  She knew he really wasn’t interested, but he pretended because he was her friend.  She’d never been able to claim that with many.  It wasn’t like the discussions she’d had with Rumpelstiltskin.  He’d never had to feign an interest in her pursuits, but had been genuinely intrigued by her bright mind and warm smile.

        Gaston poured tea into their cups and added just the right amount of sugar and a slice of orange, handing it to her carefully with his large hands, careful not to spill a drop.  “We missed you at dinner, Belle.  I don’t like that you’re missing meals.”

        “I know and I’m sorry to worry you.  I just need time to sort myself out, is all,” she said, her eyes falling to the cup in his hands.  The pattern was very similar to the tea set Belle had used every day at the Dark Castle and she lost herself once more in her memories.

        “What is it, Belle?  Are you unwell?” he asked, setting his cup on the low table set before the settee.  He was trying so hard to be patient, but he missed his friend, her bright smile, and the way her eyes lit up when she spoke to him.

        Belle was unmindful of the tears that leaked from her eyes as she stared at the cup.  “The cup…there’s no chip.”

        “I beg your pardon?” he asked blankly.

        “There’s no chip in the rim.”

        Gaston rescued the cup from her hands, afraid that she’d spill her tea and burn herself.  He nodded at her maid to take the service away and gathered Belle in his arms, uncomfortable as she cried out her heartache against his shoulder.  “Perhaps I could break one for you if it would make you feel better,” he suggested, trying to lighten her mood.  It made her cry all the harder.  “Please, Belle, I’m sorry.”

        “Not your fault…not your fault he doesn’t want me anymore.”

        He patted her shoulder awkwardly as she poured out her anguish.  “Tell me how I can make it better.  I just can’t stand to see you hurting like this.”

        “You’re making it better by just being my friend, Gaston,” she murmured, burying her face in the handkerchief he placed in her hand.

        “Belles, you’re crying because your teacup doesn’t have a chip in the rim.  There is just something so wrong with that.  I don’t know what exactly, but I know it’s something.  Would you care to enlighten me?”

        Belle smirked ruefully as she tucked her feet under her skirt and raised her teary gaze to his.  “My first night in the castle I was so incredibly nervous.  I didn’t know what to expect and I was fearful of making a cake of myself.  You know how clumsy I am.  Remember when I was fifteen and tripped over the rug in the throne room?  I landed face first in Lady Mortram’s skirt and ripped it away from the waistline, exposing her undergarments for the entire court to see.”

        “I had forgotten about that,” he said with a laugh, pleased to see her smile.

        “I think Rumpel was trying to frighten me or intimidate me as he was giving me a list of the duties I was to perform in the castle.  I was nervous and trying to keep my hands steady while preparing his tea and he made a quip, causing me to drop the cup against the carpet.”

        Gaston’s brow crinkled in a puzzled frown.  “A quip made you drop a cup?”

        “I didn’t know it was a quip at the time.  He said I was skin the children that he hunts for their pelts,” she said dryly, remembering clearly the night in question.  “He has quite a morbid sense of humor at times.  But after that, the chipped cup was the only one that he would use.  I’m sorry I upset you, Gaston,” she apologized.  It seemed that was the only thing she did of late.

        “Don’t fret, Belles. I will leave you to rest now.  But I hope to see you at breakfast,” he said gently, placing a kiss to her brow as he rose to leave.

        “I will try.  Goodnight, Gaston.”  She watched him go and rose to dress for bed.  She really didn’t see the point of trying to sleep when her dreams were plagued with images of her former master that she would do better to forget…and the pain with them.

 

XOOOX

 

        Rumpelstiltskin gripped the gilded frame of the mirror and gazed dumbfounded at the image of his Belle.  He was regretting his decision to spy on her.  Never had he thought to find her in such misery and despair, the pain written clearly on her ashen features enough to send him to his knees.  Did she truly love him?  Had he been wrong in accusing her of duplicity and betrayal?

        A cold sneering face appeared in the mirror amid magenta mist.  “Aw, is Rumpel missing his little tart?  What happened, regretting tossing your girl out on her butt?  Was it such a crushing disappointment that she wasn’t your true love?” Regina taunted, cutting across the image of Belle with her own.

        “You evil soul.  This was all you.  You turned her against me,” he railed at the queen.

        “I did nothing, Rumpel.  If you want to blame someone, well, just look in the mirror,” she said, her cruel laughter mocking him.  “Such a sweet girl, so innocent and trusting.  Much too good for a monster like you.  It’s sad, really to think that she could actually love you.”

        With a burst of black smoke, the mirror shattered, obliterating the image of the queen’s taunting, sneering countenance and leaving him in silence once more. He snatched up the journal from the table and retreated upstairs to Belle’s room, needing to feel close to her, needing to be surrounded by her scent in the one place she’d been happy…at least for a time until he’d left her broken with his distrust.


	5. Chapter 5

“I’m worried about her, Gaston,” Maurice said, rubbing a hand across his ruddy face as he paced the stone floor before his throne.  Gaston was sitting in Belle’s gilded chair set next to the king’s own throne, his legs stretched out before him, his hands occupied with sharpening his sword with a wet stone.

        “She needs time, Maurice, time to heal.  She’s had her heart broken,” Gaston replied, concentrating on his task.

        “Mrs. Potts came to me this morning, greatly concerned,” he said, referring to the palace housekeeper.  “She said she found Belle in the kitchens before daybreak making bread.  Since when does she make bread?  I know I indulged her before, allowing her to pursue culinary knowledge, but this is different.”

        Gaston paused in his task to frown quizzically at the monarch.  “Um…how is it different?  So she wanted to make bread.  What’s so odd about that?”

        “Gaston, please pay attention, lad,” Maurice said in exasperation.  Sometimes that boy could be so thick.  “There is a difference between making bread and trying to pound a hole through the worktable while kneading the dough.  Mrs. Potts said my girl hadn’t shed a tear, however.  Now I’m afraid she’s evolved to the anger stage.”

        “But that’s good.  The tears were wearing thin, Maurice.  Now perhaps she can move on, forget about him.  Although, I find that highly unlikely.”

        Maurice sat heavily on his throne and eyed the boy wearily.  “Do you also know that she hasn’t touched the journal I gave her to replace the one she left behind with the Dark One?”

        The wet stone fell from the knight’s hands.  “You must be joking.”

        “I do not find any aspect about this humorous, lad.”

        “She’s always written in her journal,” Gaston replied, aghast.

        “It’s still sitting on the coffee table in her sitting room, untouched.  And she hasn’t visited the library since her return to Avonlea.”  He knew this for a fact since he’d had Brutus watching her every move.  “I want to know what that beast did to her to have her in such a state.”

        “Perhaps I might be able to persuade her to go into town today.  The fresh air might do her some good.”

        “I don’t think fresh air has anything to do with it, Gaston.  She spends ninety percent of her time in the rose garden sulking, pondering, brooding…or whatever it is she’s doing out there,” he mused.

        The door to the cavernous chamber opened to admit the captain of the king’s personal guard.  “Sire,” Brutus said respectfully, bowing.  “Her highness is in the parlor…dusting.  I thought you would want to know.”

        Gaston’s mouth fell open in surprise, his brows disappearing near his hairline.  Maurice groaned and dropped his head into his hand.  He dismissed the guard and turned to give Gaston an I-told-you-so look.  “Still think it’s nothing?  My daughter, the high princess of Avonlea, has lowered herself to the status of maid.”

        “I’ll…um…have a chat with her.”

        “See that you do, lad.  Perhaps she will listen to you.”  He could only pray they could find something to get through to her.  His fist slammed down against the armrest with a resounding thump.  “I just want my daughter back.”

 

XOOOX

 

        Rumpelstiltskin woke in the middle of Belle’s abandoned bed, the journal resting on his chest, an empty bottle of goblin-made fire whiskey cradled between his thighs and a splitting headache.  Damn Regina and her spying, prying arse!  Wasn’t he suffering enough at the loss of his love?  Did he really need her to make it worse?  Now if he wanted to catch another glimpse of his Belle, he would have to find another mirror to enchant, that one being the only one in the whole bloody castle.  Perhaps he could send Dove off to Trottham to purchase another.  He didn’t want to take time out of his research of Belle’s journal to make the trip himself.

        He set the empty bottle on the nightstand beside the bed to dispose of later and dragged his aching body out of her room and up the winding staircase to his tower laboratory in search of a potion to banish the pain in his head, the little red journal tucked beneath his arm.  He was beginning to regret the decision to spy on Belle the previous evening.  The sight of her weeping, her puffy eyes and reddened nose wrenched at his heart.  Even after what he’d done to her, she loved him still.  He no longer believed that her loyalty belonged to the queen, but he had much work to do before he popped off to Avonlea to grovel for her forgiveness.  It was too important to his mission to find his son for him to let her kiss end his curse.  And there was no possible chance that he could be with her and not kiss her precious mouth.  Eventually he would slip up and then where would he be?  He’d be stuck in this realm with no way to get to his boy.

        No, precautions had to be put in place so that he didn’t lose his magic.  He groaned and flopped onto the stool before his worktable. He was going to have to ask Jefferson for help.  He’d rather eat a handful of broken glass than ask _anything_ of the hatter, but he had no choice.  Retrieving a roll of parchment and quill from the shelf behind him, he proceeded to scratch out a message for Jefferson.

 

Hatter—

 

I have need of your services.  Present yourself at the Dark Castle with all haste.

 

\--R

 

        Rumpelstiltskin sent it off with a plume of blue smoke.  It took him longer to find the book he needed with the spell he planned to use.  He checked his stores of ingredients to make certain he had everything at hand.  The spell was quite difficult and would require the ingredients to stew for seven days.  Provided that Jefferson didn’t dally overlong at the task he was to set him, everything should be in place for his return.  And it would all be for naught if she rejected him.  He pushed the thought aside and concentrated on filling the cauldron with dragon’s tears, a newt’s tail, chimera skin and his own blood before adding the necessary herbs and a liter of water from Lake Nostos.  He didn’t relish the idea of facing the siren to get more, but he would do what was necessary to win back his beloved.

        He wrapped his hand in a cloth, refusing to heal the wound, hoping the pain would help him fight off the fatigue that plagued him.  He lit the fire beneath the cauldron on his worktable and dropped in a length of his gold thread, the last ingredient he would need to complete the spell.  Dropping onto the small sofa he kept in the tower, he opened the journal to read once more.  Belle would be his once more and he wasn’t going to waste a moment longer than necessary.  It no longer mattered if he found the truth written by her own hand.  He would put his faith in her and trust that he wasn’t wrong.  He just knew that he couldn’t live without her love.

 

_Journal entry 15 th of December_

_I can’t believe how busy I have been this week.  There is an abundance of baking ingredients that appeared in the food locker and I just couldn’t help myself.  I’ve decided to bake cookies and make candies for the children in the village at the base of the mountain.  Rumpelstiltskin is away and I have to confess…I’m bored out of my mind.  I know he’s only been gone for three days, but I miss him terribly.  There’s no one to talk to or laugh with.  And yes, it’s true, he makes me laugh.  His sense of humor is morbid at times, but I don’t really think his quips are meant to harm but more to shock.  Perhaps I have a bit of darkness within me that I find him amusing.  Then again, maybe it’s the way his eyes light up when I show him my pleasure at his quips.  I find myself enjoying his company more and more, especially in the evenings when we have dinner.  He has a brilliant mind and sometimes I find myself challenged by his conversation._

_After dinner he will retire to his wheel and I to my armchair before the fire with a book.  He’s added a lovely sofa to our sitting area so he may join me occasionally.  It pleases me greatly when he sits with me and asks that I read aloud so he may enjoy my book as well.  I wonder what he would do if he knew how closely I watched him at the wheel.  I find myself curious as to why he spins so much.  Perhaps soon I will find the courage to ask._

_Journal entry 17 th of December_

_I had just finished the gifts for the villagers when my master returned from the south.  Needless to say, he was less than pleased._

_“What is this, dearie?” he asked, snatching a frosted sugar cookie from the slaver on her worktable._

_It took nearly everything in me to stop myself from slapping his hand away.  That would’ve gone over well.  He would have surely banished me to the frozen depths of the dungeon.  So, I merely fisted my hands in my skirt to restrain myself and explained that I had made them for the village children and their families._

_“Why would you do such a thing?  And where did you get the ingredients?” he’d asked around a mouthful of his second cookie.  I’m finding that my master has a sweet tooth.  I will have to remember that when trying to curry his favor._

_“The ingredients just appeared in the food locker, my master.  And since you are liege lord to the village, I assumed you would want to show what a kind and generous master you are with a gift for the winter solstice,” I explained._

_It may well have been a full five minutes before he stopped laughing at that remark.  “Why on earth would you believe that?  When have you known me to be kind and generous?”_

_“You’ve been very generous to me, my master,” I said.  I had to duck my head to keep from meeting his eyes.  I was finding myself rather warm and needed to compose myself.  I was a bit surprised when I met his gaze and he seemed to be just as uncomfortable as I._

_“Yes, well…that’s different, dear.  But I can’t go about giving away presents for the solstice, how would that look?  I have a reputation to uphold.”_

_“How is it different?  You are my master and my life depends on your care and generosity.  Because of your kindnesses, it makes me want to please you.  When you took over this castle, you also took on responsibility for the village as their liege.  They depend on your generosity.”_

_Seeing as how his skin tone is so different, it was hard to tell, but I think he might have been blushing.  But he brushed off my words…as usual when he becomes uncomfortable.  The Dark One doesn’t like it when I point out his good qualities and likes it even less when I point out his faults._

_“I suppose next you’ll be asking for gold coins to drop at the bottom of your packages.”_

_I’m sorry.  It was such a wonderful idea I couldn’t keep the smile from my face.  He tossed a pouch of coins on my worktable, threw up his hands in defeat or exasperation…possibly a bit of both, and left the kitchen.  I’m hoping I can persuade him to escort me to the village tomorrow to deliver our gifts.  There’s hope for my master yet!_

        Rumpelstiltskin couldn’t help but smile.  Only she would think there was hope for a beast such as him.  But he remembered their trek to the village.  He’d brought out the carriage and bundled her into a heavy blanket.  Of course, tiny thing that she was, she shivered all the way down the mountain.  When the villagers…the ingrates…had seen that the Dark One and his servant had descended on the village, they’d run and hid in their hovels.  Belle had indeed had to knock on each door to present her gifts to the children.  It made him wonder if their parents actually let the children enjoy the treats Belle had made for them. But it had made her happy to do something for the townsfolk, no matter that they were undeserving.

        On the way back up the mountain, he’d bundled her back under the blanket, but he’d made her sit next to him so she could share his warmth.  He couldn’t remember ever having seen her so content.  She’d fallen asleep with her head on his shoulder, a smile upon her rosebud mouth.  Without waking her, he’d carried her into the Great Hall and settled her on the sofa, leaving her there to her rest while he’d gone to the kitchen to make hot chocolate.

        Even with the roaring fire and the ermine blanket wrapped securely about her she shivered violently.

        _“What’s wrong, Dearie?  I thought you would’ve warmed up by now,” he’d said, wrapping her trembling hands around a mug of cocoa._

_Belle had refused to meet his eyes, her lower lip captured between her pearly teeth.  But a long finger beneath her chin had forced her to look up at him with wide tear-filled eyes.  “I can’t feel my feet at all.”  She’d acted as though it were paining her to have to tell him of her ailment._

_Carefully, he had dug under the blanket and revealed her feet.  He’d had to hide his alarm from her and cursed himself for his carelessness.  When he removed her shoes, her toes were dark blue.  First thing tomorrow he’d make a trip to the marketplace to find suitable footwear for her. Perhaps a pair of sturdy leather half-boots lined with ermine or mink.  She had jumped reflexively as he’d wrapped his hand around her left ankle, pulling it into his lap, setting about rubbing warmth back into her frozen foot._

_“You’re not to go back out into the snow until we procure some proper footwear for you,” he said in all seriousness.  She’d been happy not to argue, content to sip her cocoa and let him rub her feet._

She shouldn’t have looked quite so comfortable about having a beast rub her feet, to touch her frozen flesh, but yet she had.  It was quite possibly the very night he’d fallen in love with her.

 

_Journal entry 21 st of December_

Rumpelstiltskin cringed as the date rang sharply through his memory.  That was the day Belle had wandered outside the gates, outside the protection of his wards and had gotten into trouble.  Still, the thought of what could have happened to her that day, made him sick with dread.

 

_The solstice is upon us!  The snows have finally let up enough to let me venture out onto the grounds.  I want to gather holly and pinecones and other such greenery to decorate the Great Hall.  I convinced my master to bring in a grand fir and the baubles I found at the marketplace look lovely on it.  But I think it will make our home a bit more festive if I can decorate the mantle over the hearth and the sills of the tall windows.  Home.  I don’t know when I began thinking of the Dark Castle as my home, and my master.  My master and the Dark Castle are my home.  My spirits lift greatly at the thought._

_But I must go before the wind decides to pick up.  This will be the first time I get to venture out with the wonderful new boots my master has given me.  They feel so sinfully warm and soft against my feet.  I will have to write more tonight when I retire._

He felt his heart clench as he sat up on the sofa and strained to make out what it was dotting the page.  It was as if she’d sprinkled water droplets…on…oh, damn.  She’d been weeping as she wrote this.  He closed his eyes for a moment with regret before attempting to finish the entry.

 

_I have never seen my master so very angry with me.  I didn’t do it intentionally.  I swear I didn’t.  I was gathering greenery near the gates and the pickings were slim.  I could see the most beautiful holly bushes just yards from the gate and they held enough to decorate the entire castle if I wished.  I didn’t think I would get distracted and wander so far from the castle’s protection. But it seemed the farther afield that I ventured, the more choices I had with which to fill my basket.  I was able to gather enough to fill it and turned to come back.  It was then that I noticed the eyes peering at me from the brush._

_I have never been more frightened in my life.  Four wolves with paws as big as dinner plates it seemed.  I knew in that moment that I was going to die.  I only had one thought…that my master was going to be furious that he’d have to get a new caretaker.  What kind of thought is that when you’re staring death in the face?  If I hadn’t been so frightened for my life, I would have most assuredly been laughing hysterically._

_I could only close my eyes as the first beast lunged and wait for death, praying that it would be quick.  I was knocked backward, landing in a heap of holly and pinecones as my basket tipped and spilled around me.  But I was unharmed.  By some miracle, I was unharmed.  That miracle turned out to be my very furious and enraged master.  He was crouched before me, his eyes black with so much darkness I could only lie there in the snow, frozen in my fear.  The wolf that had lunged for me lay dead in the snow at my feet and the others were moving closer, stalking my master._

_I can’t believe I fainted.  I came to find the beasts dead and my master hovering over me, watching me intently, his large black eyes holding a hint of madness amidst the darkness.  He growled low in his throat as he rose to his feet, hauling me up by my arm, his grip like a steel band.  With a thought, he transported us back to the Dark Castle and shoved me forward to stand at the hearth.  It was only then that I noticed the deep slashes in the front of his shirt and waistcoat.  How sharp could the beasts’ claws have been to slice through dragonhide?_

_“What were you thinking, you foolish, foolish girl, to leave the protection of the castle?!” he yelled at me.  He was justified in his rage as he prowled before me, one of his clawed hands pressed over the rips to his garments.  I wanted so badly to ask him to sit so I could tend his wounds, but my tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth and I could not speak.  What would he do to me for disobeying one of his direct commands?_

_“I asked you a question!  I expect you to answer me, Belle.”  I couldn’t stop my mouth from falling open.  He’d never used my given name before and it took me by surprise.  Even in his anger I don’t think I’ve ever experienced more pleasure than hearing my name roll off his tongue._

_“I-I just wasn’t t-thinking.  I just…”_

_“That’s right, princess.  You. Weren’t. Thinking!  When I give a command, I expect it to be obeyed!”_

_I lowered my head in shame and maybe a little fear.  Oh, who am I kidding…a lot of fear.  We’d been getting on so well.  Never had I given him a reason before to speak to me in such a manner and I had no idea of what he might do to me.  He whipped off the dragonhide waistcoat and flung it into the fire, startling me into looking up at him again._

_“Master, I am so sorry.  I promise never to disobey again,” I said, finally finding my voice._

_“Yes, I imagine you are, dearie.  You’re mine!  Mine to do with as I will.  You sold yourself to me in exchange for the safety of your kingdom.  Say it!”_

_“Yours.  I belong to you, master.” I said, fearful that he was about to shake me until my teeth rattled._

_“You’re mine, Belle, you bear my mark.  I’ve tried to be good to you, dearie, but I will not have you putting yourself in danger.  I will not allow my property to be damaged,” he said, his voice so cold in his anger it cut through me almost like a physical blow.  “Go, gather supplies to clean my wound,” he said, his voice filled with menace.  “Since this is your fault, you are going to see to it.”_

_I quickly ran to the kitchen and heated water to bathe the wound.  While it was heating over the fire in the hearth, I ran upstairs to his laboratory to find bandages and antiseptic along with an ointment I’d seen him use before on my cuts and scrapes from my own brushes with calamity over the past months.  When I returned to him with the necessary supplies, he was stretched out on the sofa in the Great Hall, his shirt discarded and his arm flung over his face, concealing his eyes from me.  I had no way to judge his mood and I was almost afraid to approach him._

_The slashes in his chest were deep, angry and oozing bright red blood.  I was relieved to see that he bled like an ordinary man and at the same time, greatly remorseful that he was bleeding at all.  My hands trembled as I set the pan of water on the carpet and dipped a cloth into it.  I could feel his gaze on me as I set to work on his mangled flesh and it unnerved me, increasing my nervousness._

_“Master?  Couldn’t you heal yourself with magic?” I asked, unable to stop the question from falling from my wayward lips._

_“The wound must be cleaned first.  Then after I have rested…perhaps.  Now be silent and get to work.”  I was surprised that he’d answered at all, but his voice had gentled, become more of what I was used to from him.  At least his body was beginning to heal itself, the blood ceasing to flow from the angry slashes.  His skin was so warm, nothing like my own cold flesh.  I felt as though ice were running through my veins.  The longer I worked on his ragged wound, the more fascinated I became with the gold that seemed to glitter just beneath the green-grey hue of his skin and I found myself wondering what it would feel like under my fingertips if he were whole instead of mangled._

_By the time I was able to apply the healing ointment, I knew my cheeks were red as ripe cherries from my scandalous thoughts.  I pray that he didn’t notice.  Who am I kidding…my master never misses a thing.  He’s entirely too observant.  I gathered the supplies and wrapped them in one of the dry towels, preparing to rise and bring everything to the kitchen, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave him there alone._

_I kept my eyes lowered submissively to the floor as I asked, “Master, might I bring you anything to make you more comfortable?  Perhaps some of the spirits you keep in your study?”  My voice shook as I tried to wrack my brain for something, anything that might help to ease his pain.  He’d not made a sound throughout my fumbling ministrations aside from a sharp intake of breath when I’d used the antiseptic._

_He didn’t say a word, merely taking my chin into his hand and forcing my eyes to meet his.  The rage and darkness had receded, leaving them a warm amber once more.  Seeing them like that once more, knowing that he had control over his temper again, loosed my tongue and I couldn’t stop the words from tumbling from my lips._

_“I’m so sorry, my master.  I know I disobeyed and deserve whatever punishment you have in store for me.  But…”_

_“Yes?” he asked, tilting his head to the side and regarding me as if he didn’t know who I was of a sudden._

_“Thank you.”  I closed my eyes, unable to bear his penetrating stare for another moment.  I was surprised when he cupped my cheek in his palm with more gentleness than he’d ever shown me before and I couldn’t stop myself from leaning into his hand, seeking his touch.  “Thank you for saving me,” I whispered, hating the weakness that flooded my limbs as the magnitude of what could have happened tore through my body and stole my breath._

_“Go.  Fetch me a glass of the elfin wine and then see to starting your preparations for dinner.”_

_He could have locked me in the dungeon or my room, denied me food or water, or even beat me.  But he merely sent me about my duties.  “Aren’t you going to punish me?” I asked, unwilling to go about worrying about what he might do to me.  The anticipation and apprehension would be a punishment in and of itself._

_“I think knowing what could have happened to you is punishment enough.  Now, off with you, dearie.”_

_I have a new respect for Rumpelstiltskin and the power that he keeps tightly caged within him.  I never wish to see him in such a state of rage again.  I feared I had ruined the solstice celebration with my rash behavior, but he was his old sardonic self when I served dinner.  I certainly wasn’t expecting his gift.  In honor of the winter solstice, he gifted me with a very special quill, a lovely blue peacock quill that never needs ink.  It is truly remarkable.  It makes my gift to him pale in comparison.  As much as I abhor sewing, I had purchased a swath of crimson silk and made him a cravat.  I had pilfered a bit of his gold thread…it isn’t as though he would miss it…and embroidered a dragon onto it.  I wonder how long it has been since anyone has given him a gift, if ever.  The look on his face, the sheer joy that flitted across his face before he was able to hide it from me was the best gift I could ever have received._

_For one moment, I knew what happiness looked like on the face of my master._

_His_ Belle.  _His_ to protect, _his_ to cherish, _his_ to love.  Well, he’d screwed that up royally and now it was time to fix it.  He had a new purpose, a new calling…to fix what he’d broken between he and his beloved.  Then together they would find a way to find his son.  He just had to wait for Jefferson to arrive to put his plans into motion.  Gods, he hated waiting. 


	6. Chapter 6

        Belle rolled over and clutched her pillow more tightly to her chest, a low moan escaping her parted lips as the dream dug deeper and pulled her under its thrall.

        _Belle paced at the bottom of the winding marble staircase leading to his tower laboratory, wringing her hands, her lower lip clasped firmly between her teeth.  He’d been up there three days.  He’d been acting oddly since she’d fallen from the ladder and he’d saved her from broken bones and likely a cracked skull.  Her strange master now acted as though he couldn’t bear to be in the same room with her and when he was, he surreptitiously watched her every move when he thought she wasn’t watching.  A whimper passed her lips as she unconsciously bit down harder than necessary on her lip.  She didn’t want to think of how that episode had affected her._

_Heat flooded her face as she thought of his arms wrapped so securely about her, his face scant inches from her own and his scent of straw, pine and woodsmoke enveloping her senses.  Adrenaline pumped through her veins, sending her blood rushing to her pounding heart that threatened to beat out of her chest.  She’d wanted so badly to thrust her hands into his hair and drag his head down to meet her lips and kiss him for all she was worth.  He’d dropped her like a hot rock, his brow knitted and his eyes filled with confusion.  Never had she seen him wear that expression, as if he were fighting the same impulses._

_Just the thought of herself in his arms now sent heat unfurling in her belly and winding into her core.  She could no longer deny her feelings.  She wanted Rumpelstiltskin.  Wanted him with a burning passion she’d never thought to experience for any man, being a servant in a nearly abandoned magical castle.  For days after the incident, she argued with herself that she only felt this way because he was the only man…and yes, she was convinced that he was indeed more man than monster…she spent time with, talked with and even laughed with him.  She’d tried to convince herself that if she had access to other men in her life she wouldn’t be lusting after her master.  But it wasn’t that at all.  It was Rumpelstiltskin himself.  The little things that drew her to him.  It was the sadness that lurked behind his eyes when he sat spinning at the wheel, the simple joy he exuded when he was able to shock her and the shy surprise that crossed his lips when she did little things to please him.  And now she found herself wanting to know all of him, his secrets, his dreams, his past and his desires.  But she couldn’t very well get to know him if he was locked away for days at a time in his tower.  He hadn’t even come down in the evenings to dine with her and the trays she’d left outside his locked tower room went untouched._

_Belle had a good idea that his melancholy had begun when she’d asked him about the clothes she’d found in a trunk while she’d been cleaning, children’s clothing.  When she’d asked, he’d admitted they had belonged to his son and then completely shut down, refusing to satisfy her curiosity about the boy.  He’d said he spent so much time spinning because it helped him to forget and now she had a strong suspicion that he was trying to forget about his son or what had happened to him.  But he’d never closed her off so completely before.  It wasn’t until she’d intruded on him lighting a candle for his son on the boy’s birthday, his way of remembering is child.  It was then that he’d retreated to the tower and hadn’t come down since.  And she couldn’t bring herself to leave matters alone, couldn’t let him to continue to shut himself away._

_She gathered her courage about her like a cloak and hesitantly placed her foot on the bottom step, letting her feet carry her up the stairs to the tower.  She was halfway to the top when she heard a crash and a loud thump, prodding her to hurry her pace.  She swallowed around the nervous knot that had formed in her throat and raised her hand to knock.  When he didn’t answer after the third hard rap to the door, she reached out and grasped the handle, calling softly as she opened the door._

_“Master, are you there?  May I come in?”  When there was no response, she poked her hand around the door, gasping at finding him prone on the wood floor.  Disregarding that she was disobeying his most important rule…never to enter his tower laboratory…she rushed to him and knelt at his side, searching him for injuries.  It was rather easy, considering he was wearing only his leather pants and a very wrinkled black silk shirt.  A silk shirt that was falling open to reveal the bare expanse of his chest.  Her cheeks flamed a brilliant red and her tongue darted out to lick her suddenly dry lips, the thought of running her hands over his bare skin causing a moan to form at the back of her throat, one she bit back with a sharp gasp as his eyes opened._

_“Not s’posed to be up here, dearie,” he said, his slurred speech followed by a hiccup._

_Belle wrinkled her nose as the alcohol fumes wafted up to assault her nose.  Her eyes fell on the empty bottles that littered the floor of the room and it made her wonder just how much alcohol it actually took to put the Dark One in such a state.  What would probably kill a normal man had just left him intoxicated.  She could only pray that he wasn’t a violent drunk._

_“Oh, master, what have you done to yourself?” she asked, petting her hand over his hair as she raised his head off the floor and placed it gently in her lap.  She refused to leave him up there by himself to continue imbibing in strong spirits whether he thanked her for it or not._

_He ignored her question and pointed a long finger at her.  “Breakin’ th’ rules again, pet,” he scolded.  “Wha’d’ya think yer punishment should be?”_

_She smiled down at him and grasped his waving fingers in her hand, dropping their clasped hands to rest against his chest.  “I think having to see you such a mess is punishment enough, Master.”_

_He closed his eyes and shifted his head until it was pressed against her stomach.  “So soft,” he murmured against the fabric of her dress and she somehow knew he wasn’t referring to her clothes.  He rolled over onto his side and wrapped his arm around her hips, pulling her closer._

_“Master, let me help you up, get you to your room,” she suggested, trying to ignore the sensations and heat curling through her at having him so close, so comfortable, cradled in her arms.  “Please, I don’t want to leave you here on the floor.”_

_He gripped her tighter, his embrace nearly painful. “They all leave. N’body ever st-stays,” he said, followed by another round of hiccups.  “You’ll leave too, m’Belle.”_

_She could feel the tears prickle at the back of her eyes, stinging in their intensity and she had to choke back a sob.  So lonely, so sad.  He needed her and she couldn’t walk away from him now if he had dared hand her her freedom on a silver platter.  She scooted her legs from beneath his head and helped him into a sitting position.  “Come, my master, help me get you to your feet,” she coaxed, blinking away the moisture that had gathered in her eyes and focusing all her strength on getting him off the floor._

_After several attempts, she had him up and moving cautiously down the marble stairs to the floor below.  Even in his inebriated condition, he seemed to be able to find his way to the double doors at the end of the corridor and to his room beyond.  She felt her face flame as she took in the massive four poster that dominated one wall of the opulent room draped in rich crimson and gold silk.  Only one word came to mind…sinful.  But then, couldn’t her longing for her master be termed as such?_

_He leaned heavily on her as they stumbled towards the bed and Belle hoped she wouldn’t trip over anything that may lay in their path in the darkened room.  She eased him down onto the side of the bed, thankful that she wouldn’t have to wrestle his boots off of his feet.  Her hands slipped under his shirt at his shoulders to draw it down his arms and she had to close her eyes briefly as she reveled in the feel of his toned flesh beneath her fingertips.  She laid it carefully across the end of the bed, but before she could move to grab his legs and lift them up onto the mattress, his arms snaked around her waist and pulled her to him._

_“Master…”_

_“Stop callin’ me that,” he hissed, resting his head against her shoulder, content to simply hold her.  “I hate it when you call me that.”_

_Belle gently ran her hands down his back, her nails scraping and causing him to shiver in her arms.  “It’s what I’ve always called you,” she whispered softly, resting her cheek against his crown._

_“I’ve a name y’know,” he retorted._

_“The same could be said for you.  I’d actually like to hear you call me Belle instead of your usual condescending ‘dearie’,” she returned, smirking down at his sheepish smile.  It slipped from her face as his smile morphed into such longing it stole her breath._

_His head dropped back onto her shoulder, his lips pressed to her throat.  “M’Belle, mine,” he whispered, his arms tightening about her waist.  She barely had time to savor what her name rolling so sensuously off his tongue was doing to her when without warning he hoisted her up onto the mattress and rolled her beneath him, her shriek of surprise filling the room._

_“Rumpelstiltskin!” she cried, her hands braced against his chest, her eyes wide with trepidation at the new position she found herself in.  But wasn’t this what she wanted?  All the feelings she’d been struggling with for months had finally landed her in the exact position she’d been dreaming about…his bed, in his arms.  And he was in no position to appreciate it, drunk as he was.  Come morning, he’d be back to hiding from her.  And how was she supposed to weather his rejection?_

_“Stay with me, m’Belle.  Don’t leave me,” he whispered, the deep timbre of his voice vibrating against her throat.  “Ev’ryone leaves.”_

_She wrapped her arm around his shoulders and felt him sigh and relax against her, his arm curling around her waist as he began to lose himself to slumber.  With her other hand she smoothed the hair back away from his brow.  “I won’t leave you, Rumpelstiltskin.  I promise.”_

_His grip on her slackened as he suckled gently at the ivory flesh of her throat and she had to bite her lip to stop herself from crying out at the sheer pleasure of his lips on her skin.  He nuzzled his nose in her hair and finally stilled.  Belle remained awake long into the night, watching over him, holding him.  She would remain with him for as long as he wished.  She’d promised him forever.  Forever in his castle, at his side or until he tired of her.  Hopefully, she would be able to slip away before he woke in the morning, that he would think it had all been a dream…if he even remembered anything at all.  She yawned and snuggled into his embrace, relishing the way his body fit so perfectly next to hers.  She’d get up in just a few moments, but for now she just wanted take advantage of something that would probably never happen again…except in her dreams._

        Belle woke, tears leaving her face damp as she sat up in her bed to take in the moonlight filtering in through her childhood bedroom.  She threw back the duvet and swiped angrily at her tears.  It was over, he was done with her and she wasn’t going to cry anymore, she vowed.  She wasn’t going to sit there and think of the surprise on his face the next morning when he’d woken to find her in his bed.  She’d pushed away her mounting desire and quipped that it wasn’t as if she’d had a choice, pinned to the mattress with his body as she was.  He’d apologized and they’d agreed to never speak of it again.  But she’d never called him master again and he’d resolved to try to use her given name as well.  No matter how much she hated it, she had to take back her life.  She dug through her wardrobe, thankful that her father hadn’t tossed out her things when she’d left with Rumpelstiltskin.  At the very bottom, she found a pair of breeches and the silk shirt she liked to wear when putting Dash through his paces.  She changed quickly and braided her hair, securing the end with a strip of leather and coiling it atop her head to keep it out of her way.  Dawn was peeking over the horizon and she had better things to do than think of her former master…and how much his rejection was slowly killing her.

       

XOOOX

 

        Rumpelstiltskin jerked awake and nearly tumbled off the sofa, catching himself at the last moment to prevent himself from colliding with the hard wood floor.  He was breathing heavily and sweating profusely as the last remnants of sleep left him.  What the hell was that?  He only had a vague recollection of the night Belle had spent in his bed, fully clothed, more’s the pity.  She hadn’t even mentioned it in her journal to enlighten him.  Had he just shared her dream?

        There had been countless books written over the centuries about knights and damsels sharing true love, how true love would break any curse, and how true love was the purest and most powerful magic in the world, something to be fought for, cherished and held close to one’s heart.  Not in one of those tomes did it ever claim to produce shared dreams.  Someone really should have written a manual.  But he couldn’t deny that he’d just experienced it firsthand.  She’d been dreaming of him and somehow pulled his subconscious into hers to share it with him.

A shudder of pleasure rippled through his wiry frame as he remembered waking up in her arms that morning months before……

        _He had to be dreaming still.  It was inconceivable that his little caretaker was in his bed, his mouth hungrily suckling at her neck while her pale arms curled around his shoulders and toyed with the hair at his nape, her nails scratching in a most pleasant way.  It was a dream that left him hard and wanting, one he wished never to wake from.  She could never, would never be his.  She was too beautiful, his little Belle, too kind, too giving.  She would recoil in revulsion if she learned of his desire for her.  So he would have to be content with this dream of her and carry on as they always had…at a distance._

_His hand curled over her breast, plucking at the hardened bud of her nipple through the bodice of her dress as he ran the flat of his tongue over the mark tattooed below her ear.  His chest rumbled with a low growl at the satisfaction he found at having his mark on her, a visible claim that she belonged solely to him, a warning to others that she belonged to the Dark One.  His teeth scraped against the mark and he bit gently, drawing her succulent flesh into his mouth, thinking how lovely her mark would look with a bruise tinting it._

_His dream Belle moaned her appreciation and pressed herself closer, thrusting herself against his palm.  The breath left his lungs at her purely wanton gesture.  It would have been perfect if it didn’t feel as though tiny hammers were trying to chip away at his brain matter.  He groaned and tried to will the pain to subside.  He wanted nothing to intrude on the sheer pleasure of having her willing and wanting in his arms, holding onto him so tightly as if she were trying to meld into him._

_“Rumpelstiltskin…” she breathed, her breath tickling the hair at his temple.  And he froze.  She’d never used his name before.  It was always master falling from her rosy lips.  He shifted, his thigh positioned between her parted legs rubbing deftly against her core and another moan escaped her lips, sending a surge of lust to his groin._

_Slowly he lifted his head, realizing too late that this wasn’t indeed_ not _a dream, his wide eyes meeting her heavy-lidded gaze, her face flushed with desire and he was nearly undone by the sheer beauty of it.  His nose was touching hers now, his lips a scant inch from hers and her breath fanned over them in soft pants.  It would be so easy to close the distance and claim her lips with his kiss, but if he did, there would be no coming back from it.  He would take more than a kiss and her innocence would be destroyed.  He couldn’t, wouldn’t do that to her._

_He rolled away from her, untangling himself from her limbs and coming to his feet to run a trembling hand through his wild locks.  “Um…ah…what’re you…I mean…why are you in my bed, dearie?” he asked, fighting to school his features into a bland mask instead of the panic he knew was clearly visible.  He failed miserably if the smile on her lips was any indication._

_Belle, real Belle, not some shoddy imitation of his fantasies, propped herself up on her elbows and sighed heavily, meeting his frantic gaze with a level stare, unafraid to look him in the eye.  “It seems that I had little choice, pinned to the mattress as I was,” she quipped, smiling shyly up at him._

_Her bold gaze raked his chest and he looked down, emitting a little squeak that was so unlike the Dark One when he noticed just how bare he was, covered only by his tight leather pants.  He snatched his shirt off the end of the bed where she’d placed it the night before and roughly drew it over his shoulders.  “That doesn’t explain how you came to be there,” he retorted, feeling the heat rise in his face._

_Feeling that it would be best to find firmer footing for this discussion, she rolled out of the big bed and slipped her feet into her silk slippers.  “I think I’ll go down and see to your breakfast.”_

_“No, you will bloody well not!  You will tell me what happened last night,” he said, pointing an accusing finger in her direction and she was thankful that the bed was between them._

_Belle crossed her arms over her chest and contemplated letting him believe the worst, but she didn’t need to add new torment to those that already existed in her master.  “I found you…quite intoxicated, I might add…in the tower and I simply helped you to your room.”_

_“And?”_

_“And you asked me to stay.  So I stayed.  As I said, I had little choice as tightly as you were clasping me,” she said, her hands fidgeting as she lowered her gaze.  “Nothing untoward happened, Ru—Master.”_

_He regarded her apprehensively.  If nothing had happened, why did she seem to be disappointed?  “My apologies, dearie.”_

_“You said you wouldn’t call me that anymore,” she reminded him gently.  Just as she’d promised not to call him_ master _.  It seemed they were both destined to go back on their word this morning._

_“Go,” he replied, waving her out of the room.  “See to your duties…Belle.”  Her head lifted and she smiled brightly as her name fell from his lips and he had to stifle the groan that rose up to choke him.  If she only knew the effect her smiles had on him, life for them in the Dark Castle would be forever changed._

_Several moments after she’d gone, he dropped face first onto the bed and pounded his head against the mattress, hoping the pain shooting through his head would alleviate some of the lust still raging through his groin.  He couldn’t allow this to happen again.  He was growing too accustomed to her sweetness, her smiles, her touches and he didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to fight it.  He had to let her go._

Rumpelstiltskin checked the potion in the cauldron on his worktable and stirred it absently, intent on making certain that nothing went wrong with it.  It was too imperative to his plans to have it not come together as it should.  The wards rippled, alerting him to a visitor and he left the tower, reaching the last step as a knock sounded on the door.  He was jubilant to find Jefferson on the other side, stifling a yawn.

        “Gods, hatter, it’s barely dawn,” he said, covering his lapse and reverting to the snarky imp the hatter expected.

        “You told me to present myself without delay.  You did not, however, specify a time.”  Jefferson shrugged.  “So here I am…at your service.”

        He ushered Jefferson into the Great Hall and conjured a tea tray and a chair for the man’s comfort.  He might as well lull the hatter into a false sense of security, much easier to bend him to his will.  Jefferson sat and poured himself a cup, eyeing the imp suspiciously, but refraining from asking the myriad of questions that were dying to slip from his tongue.  Rumpelstiltskin poured his own tea into his chipped cup and stretched his legs out in front of himself, the picture of relaxation.

        “I take it you didn’t summon me for morning tea,” Jefferson said over the rim of his cup.

        Rumpelstiltskin knew it would only be a matter of time before the man’s curiosity got the better of him.  “I have a job for you.”

        “Does it involve retrieving a certain princess from the Marchlands?” he asked hopefully.

        “In a roundabout way, yes.”

        “Does this mean you’ve finally come to your senses?”

        “Hatter,” he said warningly.

        Jefferson raised a stubborn brow, refusing to budge and inch without an answer.

        “I may have overreacted a wee bit,” Rumpelstiltskin admitted ruefully, his lips twitching into a wry grin.

        “Fine…what do I have to do?”

        Rumpelstiltskin rubbed his hands together and tried to contain his glee.  “There is a certain rare diamond of which I am in dire need.  I need you to fetch it for me.”

        Jefferson frowned thoughtfully.  “Fetch it for you?  Why do I suddenly feel like a trap is going to spring closed and lop off my head?  How possesses this diamond that you can’t procure it for yourself?”

        Rumpelstiltskin rubbed the pad of his thumb almost lovingly over the chip in his cup.  “Let’s just say that the witch who possesses it holds no great _affection_ for me.  She came out on rather the shoddy end of our deal.”

        “And this diamond, it’s significant in bringing Belle home?” Jefferson asked, his grey eyes gleaming happily at the thought of the imp returning Belle to the Dark Castle.  He was rather fond of the little maid, but more rather the softness she brought out in the sorcerer he regarded as his friend.

        “Supremely significant,” he said evasively.  Jefferson didn’t need to know the details.  It didn’t do well for too many to know the Dark One’s secrets.  “Interested?” he asked, his nose crinkling along the bridge.

        “So all I need to do is fetch this diamond?  What’s the catch, old friend?”

        Rumpelstiltskin giggled, unable to help himself.  “The diamond is set atop the witch’s staff.  You merely need to bring it here to me.  Shouldn’t take you more than a day to complete this task.”

        “So who is this witch?”

        “The White Witch…you, hatter, are going to Narnia.”


	7. Chapter 7

Gaston’s nose and broad brow scrunched up in confusion as he watched his men on the practice field.  He’d missed training with his men yesterday in favor of coaxing Belle out of the castle to go riding and visit the book shop in town, but he couldn’t miss two days in a row.  He was their leader and it wouldn’t do for him to be seen slacking off.  He was disappointed because the excursion had been an epic failure.  It hadn’t begun badly.  He’d taken Belle out along the coast, one of their favorite haunts to go riding.  It hadn’t taken her long to get used to being on Dash’s back once more…and then…

        He’d never seen her ride like that before.  It was as if she was one with the horse, flying over the wet sand, pushing the gelding at a pace that could surely out distance a horde of ogres.  He hadn’t know if the horse had spooked or if it was her own urging that had them at suck a breakneck pace.  He’d immediately set out after her, his stallion easily overtaking the gelding, bracing his knees against the pommel and his arms reaching out for her to lift her over into his lap.  She’d been…bloody well furious!  She’d railed at him that she was in no danger and that he should’ve kept his hands to himself, that it had been the first time she’d felt alive, that it had been the first time she’d been able to feel something besides the gut-wrenching pain of heartbreak since leaving the Dark Castle.  She’d left him standing there on the beach with his mouth agape, whistling for her horse and leaving him to find his own way back to the stables.

        Then later that afternoon, he’d escorted her through town to the bookshop.  It had to have been the first time she’d ever entered the establishment without leaving with an armload of books.  It was rather daunting to see her in such a state with no clear way that he could think of to help her.  She’d always been an avid reader, seeking knowledge and solace from her books.  Yesterday, she’d seemed to take more pleasure from greeting her people and have them offer their gratitude for the sacrifice she’d made.  There were many who praised her and an equal number that turned away in fear at the sight of the glaring mark on her neck.  She refused to heed his advice and take her hair down to hide the mark, declaring that it was nothing for her to be ashamed of.  And if the people of Avonlea ever forgot the sacrifice she made, the mark would be there to remind them.  Rumpelstiltskin was the biggest fool she knew, but she still belonged to him because no matter how she might wish it otherwise, he still possessed her heart.

        It was ridiculous.  She was his closest friend and the smartest person he’d ever known.  How could she have let herself be taken in by the crafty mage that had demanded her as payment for his aid?  He gave himself a mental shake and concentrated his attention on his knights, allowing his squire to help him into his hauberk (a tunic of chain mail worn as defensive armor) and leather jerkin.  His attention was so fixated on the dueling combatants on the field that he barely paid heed to his squire.  His squire?  He could have sworn he’d seen the small stature of his squire practicing with Brutal.  His gaze jerked down to the lad and he frowned.

        “I thought you were on the field, Magnus,” he said, puzzled at the lad’s presence at his side, unable to shake a scalding sense of dread that prickled at the back of his neck.

        “No, milord.  Today’s Thursday.  My duties keep me from training on Thursdays,” the boy answered.

        “Then who the…”

        His mouth fell open as the diminutive knight lost purchase on his sword.  He’d already been disarmed of his dagger and was in the process of losing the duel.  Instead of surrendering, he faked right, and dropped to the ground on his back.  His opponent, who had the force of his advance to take him by surprise, fought to catch his balance.  The fallen knight grabbed the collar of his jerkin as he made to fall, propped his booted feet to his opponent’s midsection and deftly propelled him over his head.  Quickly regaining his feet, and his sword, he placed the blade to his opponent’s chest and demanded that he yield.  It was a brilliant display, but somehow very familiar.  He remembered suddenly how he’d taught Belle the same move years ago when she’d coerced him into training her with sword and dagger.  She wouldn’t!

        The knight removed his helmet and a long chestnut braid tumbled down her back, a breathtaking smile upon her rosebud mouth as she offered her hand to one of his best knights.  He stalked across the field, his features schooled into a thundercloud as he went to face her.

        “Well done, highness,” Brutus said, groaning as he gained his feet.  He knew he would wear the bruises from this sojourn onto the field today.

        “You went easy on me, Brutal, but I thank you,” she said sincerely.

        “Not too easy, I would think,” he said, remembering a few well aimed blows that she’d taken.  He hoped that her armor had protected her somewhat and that she wouldn’t bear evidence to their folly on the field.

        “No,” she laughingly replied, tucking her helmet under her arm and following him off the field.  “I’m certain I will be feeling it tomorrow.”  Her smile faded as she watched Gaston approach and she bit back a groan, squaring her shoulders and gathering her station about her like a cloak.  She knew she’d taken an unnecessary risk out on the field today.  Brutus had been the only knight she’d been able to convince to step on the field with her, having done so before when they were teenagers.  He and Gaston had balked at first when she’d approached them, begging to be trained as a knight, but they’d quickly relented when she showed them how serious she was in her endeavor.  Today had proven that she was still a worthy opponent.

        “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Belle?  Have you taken a complete leave of your senses?” he thundered, pointing a finger under her royal nose.  She was tempted to bend it to an odd angle, a simple maneuver he’d taught her long ago, but she didn’t want to shame him before his troops.

        “Oh, give over, Gaston.  The workout did me a world of good.”  She pivoted on her toes and showed off her unblemished leathers.  “See, not a scratch.”

        “Belle,” he whined.  “This is behavior unbecoming a princess.  It…”

        Brutus interrupted, dropping his head into his hand with a groan.  “Oh, bloody damn!”

        Gaston glanced over his shoulder as Belle’s eyes widened in alarm and she edged behind Brutus to hide.  She had just kicked some major behind on the training field and she was hiding at the sight of her approaching father on horseback.  Gaston pasted an overly bright smile on his face and straightened his shoulders, all too aware of the quaking princess hiding among them.  Brutus moved to Gaston’s side to give her more cover and he too smiled brightly.  Although Brutus’s smile was more strained and not the least bit convincing.

        “Majesty,” Gaston began, his voice cracking.  He cleared his throat and tried again.  “What brings you down to the field?”

        The king raised a sardonic brow and glared at his two most skilled and loyal knights.  “Let me see.  Imagine my surprise when I stepped out onto the balcony for a bit of air, cast my eyes on the training field…as I do every morning, I might add…and witnessed my daughter’s prowess with a sword.  Imagine the terror that coursed through me when I realized the danger my little girl had placed herself in,” he said in a tone of quiet menace, his large beefy hands clasped tightly behind his back to stay them from throttling the two knights before him.

        “Sire…”

        “Your majesty…”

        “I don’t want to hear it.  Belle, you might as well come out, my girl.”

        Brutus and Gaston separated and Belle tumbled forward, regaining her feet before she stumbled into her father.  “Hello, papa,” she mumbled sheepishly, wringing her hands at being caught.

        Maurice offered his arm to her and Belle narrowed her eyes on her two friends, thrusting her helmet at Brutus and mouthing _traitors_ at the two men before slipping her hand in the crook of her father’s arm.  He gave her a boost up into the saddle and mounted behind her, his arms slipping protectively about her waist as he grabbed for the reins.

        They set off at a trot across the field, silent for several moments as Maurice let her stew.  “Would you care to explain yourself, young lady?” he asked, using that scolding tone he knew she loathed.

        “I was just blowing off steam, papa.  You know Brutal wouldn’t let any harm come to me,” she said defensively. 

        “Belle, you are a princess, heir to the throne.  You shouldn’t…”

        “Yes, and I’ve always done things to make you disappointed in me,” she murmured sullenly, chewing thoughtfully at her lower lip.  “I’m sorry.”

        He transferred the reins to one hand and tipped her chin up with the other, forcing her to meet his gaze.  “Oh, my sweet girl.  Never have you given me reason to be disappointed in you.  You are brave and spirited, intelligent and cunning, and one of the most beautiful women in all the realm.  Now I find that you are as skilled as many of my knights.  How could you ever think I would be disappointed in you?  You will make a fine queen one day,” his voice gruff with emotion as he confessed.

        “Oh, papa.  I love you,” she said, returning his embrace.

        “Now as much as I would wish for you to refrain from such dangerous activities, would you care to tell me the real reason you were on the training field this morning?”

        She cast her eyes in the distance, taking in the glory of spring that wound its way through her kingdom.  “I…ah…I felt the need to hit something…really, really hard.”

        Maurice sighed.  “I believe you should go back.  Maybe if you were able to talk to him again…”

        Belle’s eyes widened and she cast him a look of pure astonishment.  “You’re not serious.”

        “I am.  I’ll travel with you.  So would Gaston and Brutus if that is what you wished to do,” he said, the muscle in his jaw twitching as he clenched his teeth.  If she only knew what it was costing him to make the suggestion.  “Perhaps after the ball this Saturday, we might be able to plan a trip.”

        “I can’t believe you just offered…”

        “It didn’t come easily, my girl.  As your king, it goes against everything I wish for your future, but as your father I only want to see you happy.  And you, my darling, are not happy.”

        Belle’s shoulders drooped and she slumped back against her father’s broad chest.  “As much as I would love to take you up on your offer just to give Rumpelstiltskin a piece of my mind, I can’t accept.  He doesn’t want me anymore.  If he did, he would have come for me,” she replied, trying to keep her voice from sounding too dejected.  “I just have to find something here to make me happy.”

        “If you change your mind…”       

        Belle ground her teeth together to stave off the tears she felt prickling at her eyes.  “I know, papa.”

        She groaned inwardly at the thought of the annual ball held for the king’s birthday.  She’d be subjected to fittings for her ball gown for the remainder of the week and she was not looking forward to it with even a hint of pleasure.  But she would endure and put on a brave face for her father.  It wasn’t asking too much to suffer through it for him.

 

XOOOX

 

        Rumpelstiltskin braced both of his hands against the mantle over the hearth in the Great Hall and willed himself to remain still, to fight the pull he felt flow through his body, commanding his presence.  He focused all of his energy, breaking out in a sweat to stave off the urge to heed the call.  Perhaps her mark itched and she had to scratch at it…and just happened to be thinking of him.  He knew his Belle was too stubborn to summon him.  She was probably furious with him for the way he’d so callously disregarded her feelings and booted her out of the castle.  He tried to concentrate on what she was feeling and he could sense that she wasn’t in mortal peril.  Would she even summon him if she were in danger?  “Soon, love.  It won’t be much longer before I come for you,” he whispered to the empty room as he felt the thrall leave his ravaged senses.

        Where in hell was the hatter?  He should have returned yesterday.  The potion was ready and he desperately needed that diamond.  It was the only jewel strong enough to contain the spell that would ensure his ability to be able to kiss his true love without destroying his curse.  Damnit!  He didn’t have time for such a delay.  He should have gone himself.  He would give Jefferson until the end of the day to accomplish the task he’d set him.  Then, he would go after him to see what kind of trouble he’d gotten himself into.  He huffed out a sigh of frustration and dropped into his chair at the table, propping his booted feet upon the gleaming surface and settling Belle’s journal against his chest to read another entry.

 

_Journal Entry 2 nd of April_

_Something is troubling my master…er…Rumpelstiltskin.  He has been so different of late, ever since “the incident”, which is what I’ve been calling his night of drunkenness.  His behavior can only be called skittish at best, as though he’s nervous to be in my company.  I’m afraid I may have broken something between us and I saddens me greatly.  It has been troubling me as well.  Even before that night, I found myself desiring him, but now I find that I want so much more.  I crave to have his arms around me, his hands on my flesh and his lips against mine.  And now I am having the most disturbing dreams, dreams of him in my bed, wrapped around me in the most delicious debauchery, next to me, above me…in me and I wake panting and aching for him.  I’ve taken to finding any excuse to put my hands on him, albeit innocently, but I can’t seem to help myself.  I know he will never want me that way, especially after his panic over finding me in his bed, but I need to feel him, to know that even in a small way that he is mine.  Just a brush of my fingertips to his as I hand him his tea sends a jolt of sinful pleasure spiraling throughout my body._

_I’m tempted to go out and lie in the melting snow in the courtyard!  But seeing as how closely he watches me, that would be a bit hard to explain.  “Yes, master, I’m lying in the snow because all I can think about is having you take me against the table in the Great Hall during tea time.”  Yes, that would go over extremely well.  I would never be able to look into his lovely amber eyes again!_

_At times, as I read to him after dinner in the evenings while he spins at the wheel, I think I see something behind his eyes, or in his crooked smile, but he hides his feelings so well, I can’t be certain._

Rumpelstiltskin laid the journal in his lap, careful not to brush it against his raging erection.  Gods!  His precious Belle had wanted him, desired him in her bed.  How could she want him, green-gold flesh, claws and all? He never would have imagined that she’d want him in that way, true love or not.  In all his contemplations of rushing to Avonlea to bring her home, he’d never thought about that side of their relationship.  He firmly believed that they could be happy and go on just as chastely as before.  He was a fool.  He should have known as passionate and fiery of spirit as she was that she’d never accept that.  But it amazed him nonetheless.

        Now that he’d read the truth of her desire in her own hand, he couldn’t dispel the thought from his mind.  To know that she dreamt of him, of his hands on her, touching her, pleasuring her was nearly more than he could bear and he had to bite back the needy whimper that fell from his lips.  His flesh felt hot, his fingertips itching to have her there, on his lap, wrapped around him, willing and wanting, and the violent urge he had to whisk himself off to fetch her was overwhelming.  He ran a hand over his long face and glowered at the clock, cursing the hatter for his tardiness.

 

_This is really not what I expected when I agreed to forever with Rumpelstiltskin.  I expected to serve him and care for his home and his needs.  I never expected to have such deep abiding feelings of longing for him.  I want to be in his bed, in his life and…in his heart.  But could he ever care for me in such a way?  I wish I had the courage to ask him outright, but alas I find myself a coward in this regard._

“That makes two of us, sweetheart,” he thought ruefully.

 

_Journal entry 4 th of April_

_My feet are bloody well killing me!  I really must ask Rumpelstiltskin for some sensible shoes.  These heels were not the best choice for a foray down the mountain.  I can’t believe I am sitting in the tavern…in the village…at the bottom of the mountain…by…my…self.  He asked that I fetch him some fresh straw.  And what is so wrong with the endless supply in the stable?  It’s good enough for the horses.  I’m so confused.  After days of acting strangely, he’s sent me town and I don’t think he expects me to return.  Have I angered him in some way that he doesn’t want me any longer? How am I supposed to feel about that?  It feels extremely odd to be in town without him by my side.  Although, the stares I receive from the villagers as well as the all too loud whispers are very much the same as if he were here with me.  I know, because of my mark, I am still within the circle of his protection, but I miss his presence._

_If he had been with me, I doubt I would have been accosted on the road._

        His heart began pounding and the breath left his lungs in a loud whoosh as he read the entry.  He could only think of one person brazen enough to dare accost someone bearing his mark…not that he’d ever marked anyone before, but still…only one person with no thought to his wrath should the truth ever come to light.  That vicious little harpy!  He was tempted to pay Regina a visit just to show her who held the power in this realm.  Perhaps later.  Bringing his beloved home was more important than the little war he waged with his former apprentice.  Oh, but she would pay for her interference. 

 

_I don’t know who she was, but there was just something so inherently evil about her.  I wanted to be rid of her, but she insisted on walking a ways with me towards town.  She believed me to running from my master.  If she knew anything about me whatsoever, she would realize I was more likely to be running towards my master._

_She said that if he loved me, he would have let me go.  I was dumbfounded and didn’t know how to reply at first.  But the thought that Rumpelstiltskin could actually love me nearly made my heart flutter out of my chest.  Could he actually return the same feelings that I held for him?  I became even more suspicious when she began spouting off about true love and that perhaps my master is as he is because of a curse.  Could he really be cursed?  Was he possibly just an ordinary man once?  Could he be again?  Would he even want to be normal again after centuries of being the Dark One?_

_Now what am I supposed to do?  If he does indeed have feelings for me as I do for him, eventually it’s going to happen.  I really need to get home to the library.  There must be something in there that can help educate me on this.  I can imagine his fury if something happens and he thinks I’ve deliberately set out to hurt him…_

And damned if that wasn’t just what had happened.  She’d held herself away from him in order to preserve his feelings, had withdrawn and kept herself at a distance until that fateful day when _he’d_ kissed _her._   He had never felt like more of a bastard than he did at that moment and he pushed the journal away from him across the table with a curse, sinking back into his chair and burying his face in his hands, feeling more shame than he ever had in his long life.  If she never forgave him, he would deserve it and much more.  But he had to try and pray that she loved him still.

        He was interrupted from his morose musings as the front doors of the castle banged back loudly against the stone wall.  He leapt to his feet, prepared to defend, magic crackling at his fingertips as the hatter limped through the double doors leading into the Great Hall.  Rumpelstiltskin caught the tip of his tongue between his teeth and steepled his hands before him, trying in vain not to laugh.

        Jefferson stood before him, scowling, his eyes narrowed with malicious intent and tossed the staff at Rumpelstiltskin’s feet.  “I quit!”

        Rumpelstiltskin giggled, unable to control himself any longer.  Jefferson’s shirt was missing, his emerald frock coat hanging in tatters as well as one pants leg.  But the funniest thing had to be the arrow sticking out of his overlarge hat.  And was that lipstick on his neck?  “My, my, my, I do believe Jadis took a liking to you, hatter.”

        “I will never,” Jefferson began, pointing an accusing finger at the imp. “Ever! Do a job for you again!”

        The sorcerer conjured a tray of tea and sandwiches and nodded for Jefferson to take a seat in the extra chair at the table.  “So I left out a few details,” he said, pouring himself a cup of tea and taking his own seat.  “I rather have a lot on my mind at present and can’t be held accountable for my lapse in memory.”

        Jefferson glared at him and poured his own cup of the brew, collapsing into his seat and pulling the ragged edges of his coat over his bare chest.  “I barely escaped that place with all of my appendages intact,” he huffed. 

        “Yes, Jadis, is quite insatiable, but nothing, I’m sure, you couldn’t handle,” Rumpelstiltskin said, giggling again and waggling his brows suggestively.

        “Next time you need something from her, YOU go to Narnia and deal with it!”

        Rumpelstiltskin eyed the hatter over the rim of his cup and bit back another laugh.  “I don’t think m’Belle would appreciate that overmuch.”

        “If she decides to forgive you,” Jefferson hissed, hitting the imp where it would hurt the most.

        The imp tossed him a rather large bag of gold coins and scowled.  “This should more than make up for your troubles.”

        “And just what am I to tell Alice?  How am I to look her in the eye after having to dally with that vicious witch in order to procure the staff?  She’s never going to forgive me,” he said dejectedly, frowning down into his tea.

        Rumpelstiltskin had the decency to look ashamed at what his friend had endured in order to help him.  He tossed the man another bag of gold.  “You did what you had to do to accomplish the task I set you.  If you feel the need to blame someone, you can always tell your lovely wife that the Dark One made you do it,” he said, repairing Jefferson’s clothing with a wave of his hand.  “Besides, she’ll only find out if you decide to tell her.  What she doesn’t know won’t hurt _you._ ”

        Jefferson pasted a false smile on his mouth and raised a brow.  “I am so telling Belle when she comes home.  I am going to tell her just what you put me through in her absence.”

        “I simply asked you to do a job for me.  I can’t be held accountable for what you _chose_ to do in order to complete it,” Rumpelstiltskin replied, taking advantage of the loophole in their deal.  He shifted uncomfortably as he imagined the scolding Belle would give him regardless.

        Jefferson snorted and grabbed for a ham sandwich.  Rumpelstiltskin considered the conversation finished and scooped the staff up in his long fingered spinner’s hands, regarding it closely.  With a flourish of his wrist, the diamond separated from the staff, coming to rest in the imp’s hand.  The staff was then tossed into the fire blazing in the hearth.

        “Are you ever going to tell me what’s so important about that particular diamond?” Jefferson asked around a mouthful of sandwich.

        Rumpelstiltskin’s amber eyes gleamed as he studied the gem in his hand, realizing that for the first time in days he could breathe easy, the answer to his true love’s kiss dilemma finally at hand.  “Really, hatter, could you think of a more perfect stone to adorn my bride’s delicate finger?” he asked over his shoulder, striding purposefully out of the Great Hall to ascend the stairs to the tower where the potion and his spell book awaited him.

        Jefferson choked on his sandwich and hastily downed the rest of his lukewarm tea to help clear his throat.  He couldn’t possibly have heard the sorcerer correctly.  No, it just wasn’t possible.  He decided then and there that he would accompany his friend to Avonlea.  He wouldn’t miss that showdown for the wide world.


	8. Chapter 8

“What fresh hell is this?!” Rumpelstiltskin fumed as they merged onto the road leading into Avonlea.  It was crammed full with carriages all headed, it seemed in the direction of the palace.  He glared at Jefferson, his clear amber eyes darkening with frustration and pique.  “This is all your fault, hatter.  If you hadn’t insisted that we take the carriage, we could have been here yesterday.”

        “You’re lucky Dove only slammed the door in your face once instead of trying to stomp your scrawny behind in the ground for making him take her home to Avonlea.  And the only reason he acquiesced to your request to bring us here is because of the promise he made to Belle,” Jefferson said, smirking, his grey eyes alight with humor.  “Besides, you know Belle hates to travel by magical means.  Makes her grumpy and nauseated.  Do you really want her in that state?  Are you forgetting about that deal you took her on and she retched all over the foyer when you got back?  We do not need a repeat of that debacle.”

        Rumpelstiltskin curled his lips back in a sneer.  “Shut it, hatter.  Y’know it’s not too late to send you home.”

        “I am simply here for moral support,” Jefferson said, nodding.

        “Whose? Mine or Belle’s?”

        “Hers of course.  You deserve whatever she decides to do to you.”

        Rumpelstiltskin rapped sharply on the roof of the carriage and yelled at Dove.  “Can’t you find out what is slowing us down?”

        Dove grunted and replied, “I’m sorry, milord, but I won’t be able to find out the reason for the delay until we are nearer to the gates of the city.”

        The imp sat back heavily and removed the ring from his pocket, deciding it would be in his best interests to ignore his traveling companions.  He just wanted to get to his Belle with all haste.  They’d been separated for far too long as it was.  Yes it was all his fault, he acknowledged, but that didn’t make him suddenly acquire the virtue of patience.  He caressed the diamond ring he’d fashioned for Belle with the pad of his thumb and smiled.  It was icy cold to the touch and if you looked into its depths, you could see the faint pink swirl of the spell held within. 

It had been a complex spell, but hopefully it would work.  The diamond had had to be imbued with the potion and sealed with the spell and then shrunk to fit the setting in the gold band he’d fashioned for her from his own gold thread.  If he hadn’t made any mistakes, the blood spell would prevent the power of true love from interacting with his curse and he’d be able to share a kiss with Belle without any disastrous ramifications.  It had to be this diamond, it was the strongest of its kind and already imbued with magical properties.  If anything would be able to counter the magic of true love’s kiss, this would.

He was still in awe that his precious girl felt so strongly about him.  He was filled with darkness, yet she saw light.  She’d found the man that he’d been so long ago and coaxed him into being once more.  And what had he done?  Tossed her away as if she were week old rubbish. 

        He would beg, he would grovel and he would plead if it was necessary.  Anything at all to have her back at his side, chained to him forever once more.  But this time the chains would be of love instead of servitude.  If he could only convince her, he would give Belle her heart’s desire, anything, everything, within his power she would have it.  “Have we even moved in the last five minutes?!”

        Dove took that question as a personal insult to his driving.  “I’m doing the best I can,” he shouted back, raising his voice to be heard.  Jefferson dropped his head against the back of the seat and stuffed his knuckles in his mouth, biting down to stop the laughter bubbling to his lips.

        “We’re never going to get there!” the Dark One pouted.

        Jefferson raised a brow and wiped the moisture from his eyes.  “You are such a child.”

        “One more word, hatter, and you’ll be walking the remainder of the way,” Rumpelstiltskin warned.

        It was another forty five minutes before they were close enough to the gates for Dove to ask one of the guards about the traffic snarl.  Rumpelstiltskin knew this because his pocket watch was open in his hand and he was glancing down at it every minute or so.  There was no reason good enough for him, now that he was so close to Belle and her home.  Once again, Dove’s deep baritone drifted in through the carriage window.  “It seems they’re holding the annual ball at the palace to celebrate the king’s birthday.”

        If it was possible, Rumpelstiltskin paled, his abnormal skin tone taking on a more greenish hue.  Jefferson stared at him blankly before his eyes widened in alarm.  “We are not dressed for a ball, Rum.  They’ll never let us in.”

        With a flourish of his hand, the Dark One provided a change of clothes for them both.  Jefferson looked splendid in a midnight blue frock coat, leather breeches and high boots, a pristine white shirt with a gold waistcoat and a snowy cravat at his throat.  Rumpelstiltskin chose for himself black leather breeches, high boots, a gold frock coat, crimson waistcoat, white poet shirt and the crimson cravat embroidered with a gold dragon that Belle had made for him.  He felt proud to wear her gift.  Perhaps it would soothe a tiny portion of her anger towards him to see him wearing it.

        “Of all the times for the king to have a birthday, it had to be today,” he grumbled as he felt a slight tinge of fear creeping in.  “I was hoping to talk to Belle privately.  Now I’m going to have to face her in a ballroom full of the nobility.  She’s going to be more interested in schmoosing and mingling than…”

        “Oh, would you stop pouting?” Jefferson huffed with exasperation.

        “Out!  Get out of my carriage.  The walk will perhaps curb your acerbic tongue!” The Dark One railed at him, more out of nerves for what was ahead than actual anger at the hatter.

        “If you’re in such a hurry to face your lady, why don’t you just use magic and transport yourself to her side?”

        “What if she doesn’t want to see me?  We didn’t part on the most amicable terms,” he said in a voice heavily laden with guilt, replacing the watch in the pocket of his waistcoat as the carriage inched forward.

        Jefferson raised his brows incredulously.  “I never thought I would see the all-powerful dealmaker scared of a little slip of a girl.”

        “Belle is so much more and you will watch your tone when you speak of her,” he growled.  She might be just a slip of a girl, but she was his and he loved her more than his life, more than his power and he was determined to win her back.  “If you can’t be more respectful, I will turn you into a snail and deposit you in the palace gardens,” he hissed.

        Jefferson didn’t say another word until Dove dropped them off in the palace courtyard.  The fireworks were about to begin and he didn’t want to miss a moment of it.

 

XOOOX

 

        Belle sat next to her father on a throne not much smaller than the king’s on the raised dais in the ballroom, her features schooled into a mask of polite gentility.  She accepted the flute of champagne from Gaston and smiled sweetly at him. But she only had one thought on her mind…just how very bored she was with the whole affair.  She smoothed her left hand over her skirts, caressing the silk absently.  She was the picture of the perfect princess and she couldn’t have cared less.  Her father had looked at her approvingly when she’d joined him in the receiving line at the beginning of the evening, her petite form swathed in a ball gown of crimson and gold silk.  It had only occurred to her after her last fitting that she had unintentionally chosen Rumpelstiltskin’s own signature colors to wear.  She wondered if she would ever be rid of his influence.  Doubtful, she thought with a sigh.  As long as he possessed her heart, she would never be free.  She would be doomed to a life of loneliness and heartache and the thought just made her more determined to get on with her life and try to find happiness in helping her father rule their small kingdom.

        She’d been forced to spend the entire afternoon with her father and their minister of finance going over the books.  Her opinion of the man?  He was a complete idiot and needed to be replaced.  She would have to spend the entirety of the next week correcting several large mistakes he’d made and she wasn’t looking forward to the prospect.  In the time she had spent at the Dark Castle with Rumpelstiltskin, and her father despairing of ever seeing her again, he’d made Gaston his heir.  It was time her friend learned more of his future role as king and took more responsibility for their coffers.  If she was going to have to endure a week of crunching numbers, then he would have to find a way to endure it along with her.  Her father hadn’t been the least bit pleased to discover his minister wasn’t capable of the task to which he’d been appointed and he’d spent another hour or so discussing a replacement for him.

        Belle watched the ball room fill as more and more guests arrived from neighboring kingdoms to wish her father happy birthday.  She felt that the entire kingdom deserved to join in the revelry and Maurice had indulged her when she’d had the town square transformed into a festival for those not of suitable station to attend the ball.  Just as the ball room was filled with nobles partaking in food and dance, so would it be for the commoners in the village.  Gaston had spread the word that the festival was just another gracious act conceived by their princess.  He was hoping that their fear of her would dissipate over time.  Belle didn’t care.  She was finding that what others thought of her was of little or no consequence.  There was only one man she cared for and everyone else paled in comparison.  Her anger reasserted itself at the thought.  She should be comfortably settled on her settee in the Great Hall of the Dark Castle, curled up with a book instead of having to force herself to be polite to superficial nobles who cared not a wit for intelligent conversation.  If she had to endure one more lady expound on her prowess with an embroidery needle, she just might commit violence.  That wouldn’t be fair to her papa and so she ground her teeth together and resigned herself to sitting at his side.

        The very least she could be thankful for was that her father wasn’t pressing the issue of marriage.  He understood why she was refusing to marry and wasn’t throwing eligible suitors in her path.  Besides, who in their fear and ignorance of the Dark One, would choose to marry a woman bearing his mark?  She was tainted from her association with him, no matter how innocent and chaste her time with him had been.  They all believed she’d been forced to warm his bed and no amount of assurances from those who knew her could convince them otherwise.  Tonight she was grateful that people thought such things about her, for it kept their guests at a distance and allowed her to dwell on her melancholy thoughts.  She just couldn’t bring herself to partake in such merriment when she was so utterly depressed.  And that just made her all the more furious with Rumpelstiltskin.

        “Belle, my darling, if I hear one more sigh out of you, I do believe I will go mad,” Maurice admonished in an aside.  “Go dance with Gaston, or have something to eat.  You could stand to have a piece of cake…or three.  You’re not eating enough and I fear you’re going to expire on the spot.”

        A genuine smile touched her lips for the first time that evening, one that made her cerulean eyes sparkle in the candlelight.  “Oh, papa, how you do love to exaggerate.”  She put her champagne flute on the table next to her gilded chair and accepted the arm Gaston offered, his face blooming into a rakish grin when she accepted.

        It wouldn’t hurt her to share a dance with her friend, after all.  She allowed him to lead her from the dais and out onto the parquet floor.  His dark eyes were filled to overflowing with love and admiration for her and it made her sad.  Why couldn’t he find a woman worthy of his love and forget his infatuation with her?  Granted, the poor girl would have to share his fascination for killing any and all manner of beasts, hunting being his only passion, but she was certain there had to be someone out there for him.  That someone just didn’t happen to be her.

        “Have I told you how absolutely breathtaking you are this evening?” he asked, clasping her hand firmly in his and placing the other at her waist.

        Belle reached behind her and moved his hand higher up onto her back, raising a brow at him.  “Perhaps you would like to address your compliment to my face instead of my bosom?  Then I might take it as such,” she scolded gently.

        He flushed a deep red and quickly raised his gaze to stare at the gleaming mischief in her eyes, realizing he’d been caught but that she truly wasn’t angry with him.  He cleared his throat and grinned sheepishly.  “Sorry, darling.  I just can’t remember the last time I’ve seen you dressed in such finery.”

        She let her mind wander as he began regaling her with a tale of his last hunting expedition with Brutus, trying to keep her smile firmly in place so as not to hurt his feelings with her disinterest as she gracefully moved across the floor with him.  The mark on her neck prickled, but she ignored it as it had been doing that for days.  It made her wonder if she was developing an allergic reaction to it.  So lost in thought, it didn’t register on her at first the hush that was beginning to spread throughout the room.  She did, however notice when there was a clang of instruments and the music died a rapid and sudden death.  Gaston halted their dance, but kept his arm wrapped protectively about her waist.

        Her gaze moved from Gaston’s ashen face to follow his gaze, now quite curious as to what had caused silence to fall across the ballroom.  And then her world came crashing to a screeching halt.  Jewel-bright blue eyes met overlarge amber irises filled with so much heat she had to remind herself to breathe.  Her heart was beating a thunderous tattoo against her ribs and her hand rose to rest at her throat as he moved forward to take her hand in his, his lips brushing lightly over her knuckles as he dipped into a sweeping bow.

        “R-Rumpel…Rum…”

 

XOOOX

 

        The breath hitched in Rumpelstiltskin’s chest as he took her in, his gaze sweeping her from her elegantly coiffed crown to her silk-slippered toes.  She was exquisite in her finery and it didn’t escape his notice that she was draped in his colors, proclaiming his ownership of her.  He stopped to wonder if she had done it on purpose, her way of making a statement to keep her suitors at bay or if it had simply been an oversight.  Heat darkened his eyes as his sweeping gaze took in her décolletage.  Never had he seen so much of her flesh on display.  Her seamstress needed a firm talking to.

        He quirked a brow at the lumbering oaf that possessively clutched at her waist, wondering how upset his Belle would be if he forcibly removed the offending arm from her person.  He retained the grip he had on her hand, tugging her forward, away from the knight and into the circle of his arms.  “Dance with me?”

        She didn’t answer, but rested her hand atop his shoulder as the orchestra resumed their playing and conversations began again to mask the awkward silence.  He was holding her entirely too close for propriety’s sake, but she knew it would be useless to resist him.  It would be all too easy to whisk her away with his magic should she deny him.  And how would that look?  He was Avonlea’s savior, having banished the ogres with a mere sweep of his hand and saving the lives of their kingdom from certain death.  If she publicly rejected him, the gossip would reach every ear and it would not bode well for the work she’d done to dispel the fear they had for him.

        She felt dizzy and hot and her corset seemed that its goal in life was to choke her to death.  “Rum…”  What was wrong with her?  Her feelings were so skewed, fighting between elation that he was there and wanting to club him with a mace, she couldn’t form a coherent thought as he twirled her about the dance floor.

        “Forgotten my name so soon, dearie?” he asked, his trilling giggle grating severely on her nerves.

        And there it was, that dreaded _dearie_ that snapped her out of the stupor that seemed to rob her of speech.  “What are you doing here, Rumpelstiltskin?” she hissed, hating the blush that rose in her face and very nearly matched the color of her gown, her eyes sparking angrily.

She focused her gaze just over his right shoulder and concentrated following the intricate steps of the dance, refusing to look up at him.

        “I seem to have lost something extremely precious to me and I’ve come to Avonlea to collect it,” he said, his voice dipping an entire octave into something warm and alluring.  Nothing at all like what she had become accustomed to from him.

        She purposefully missed the next step and ground her heel into his instep, smirking as he hissed in pain.  She chanced a glance up into his face and nodded in satisfaction at the discomfort so evident on his sharp features.  “Perhaps you should have appreciated what you had while it was still in your possession,” she said.  If he wanted to play word games, she would oblige him.

        “M’Belle…”

        Her nails dug painfully into his silk-clad shoulder.  “No, you don’t get to call me that any longer,” she retorted, fighting off the fluttering in her belly as his name for her, uttered so possessively, rolled off his tongue.  “You broke our deal, Rumpelstiltskin, not I.”

        He dipped his head, his lips coming to rest against the shell of her ear, his hot breath sending a wave of gooseflesh peppering along her skin. “And I’ve never regretted anything more,” he whispered fervently, brushing his lips lower against the mark that stood out against her ivory skin.

        She crashed into him, her soft curves molding to his lean lines as the music changed and he stopped.  “W-We can’t do this here.  I will not have this conversation with you in the middle of the ballroom.”  She let him lead her to the edge of the dance floor where their path was blocked by Gaston and Brutus.  They could see her obvious upset, no matter how hard she tried to hide it and they wore identical expressions of disdain for the imp that caused it.  “Gaston, please inform papa that I will be making use of his study.”  Without another word, she led Rumpelstiltskin out of the ballroom, Brutus following discreetly behind them.

        “What’s with the shadow, love?” Rumpelstiltskin asked, nodding over his shoulder at Brutus.

        Belle clenched her teeth and hurried her pace, eager to get their discussion over and done.  “Brutal is my personal guard.  He’s also my friend.  He will keep anyone away from my papa’s study so we may have privacy,” she said, cursing him for calling her _love_.  How dare he after what he’d put her through?

        He held his tongue until the study door was closed behind them and Brutus stood guard to ensure they wouldn’t be interrupted.  Belle turned on her heel and slapped him for all she was worth, her hand stinging and her chest heaving as her rage bubbled to the surface.  “How dare you show up here claiming to want me back?!  It’s been nearly three weeks, Rumpel.  Why now?”

        Rumpelstiltskin fingered his stinging cheek and cursed himself that he’d let it come to this.  If he hadn’t been such a fool…”Because I love you.”

        Those simple words, spoken too little too late, nearly crushed her under their weight and her anger slipped a notch beneath boiling mad.  “You…you unbelievable bastard.  You come to me now?  What took you so long?  Were you out searching for the truth that I did _not_ in fact betray you?  All you had to do was read the journal.  I’m not in the habit of lying to myself.”

        “I was only a quarter of the way through the journal when I realized I’d made a mistake, when I realized that you would never betray me, Belle.  It has never been easy for me to trust,” he said, inching closer to her.  Belle took several steps away in retreat, edging around the sofa.

        “When did I ever give you a reason to think every deed, ever gesture, every word wasn’t exactly what was in my heart?  That I would betray you to the queen or anyone for that matter is utterly preposterous,” she said, her voice filled with heat, her eyes narrowed dangerously.  She couldn’t be close to him.  She needed the distance to fuel her anger and she knew if he touched her again there was a great chance for her resistance to crumble and leave herself open for more heartache. 

        “Belle, you don’t understand.  Everyone I have ever cared about has left me at some point.  How was I to know that you truly loved me?  That you weren’t just trying to break my curse?” he asked, calmly stalking her around the furniture, desperation for her to understand coloring his voice. 

        “How were you to know?  The kiss wouldn’t have worked if I wasn’t your true love, Rumpel!  What was it you said to me?” she asked.  She pitched her voice in a good imitation of the imp.  “My power means more to me than you?” she asked, throwing his words from their final parting back into his face.  He winced.

        “I can’t lose my power, love.  Without it, I’ll never be able to find my son.  And when you claimed that she was right, I thought it was all a trick.  I thought that she’d somehow gotten to you.  It took me awhile to see that you wouldn’t do that to me…that you…”

        “That I what, Rumpel?  That I loved you?” she asked, swiping angrily at the tears that spilled from beneath her closed lids.  How broken was he that he couldn’t accept what she’d so willingly offered?  “You were cruel.  You didn’t just break my heart, Rumpelstiltskin, you tore it from my chest and crushed it beneath your boot heel.”

        “Belle, please…” he began, reaching out a beseeching hand to her, but she cut him off.

        “No,” she said, slapping his hand away as it reached for her.  “You don’t get to come here and tell me you love me and think everything is going to be fine, that I’m just going to fall at your feet.  It doesn’t work that way.” She paused to catch her breath.  “All I wanted was to love you.  I had no idea until that day you sent me to town that there was even a remote possibility that you might return my feelings and yet I spent the next few weeks doing research.  If there was a chance that I could break your curse, I wasn’t prepared to take it.  If you hadn’t kissed me…”

        He ignored her protests and pulled her into his arms, his grip firm as he held her to him.  “I’m so sorry, love.  Please forgive me for being a wretched old monster.  Please, m’Belle,” he crooned, his nose buried in the ringlets at her crown.

        She jabbed him in the ribs with a sharp fingernail.  “You’re not a monster.  How many times do I have to tell you that before you believe me?  A b-beast at times, but not a monster,” she whispered brokenly around the sobs that wracked her diminutive frame.  “I was willing to stay with you forever…not because of our deal, but because I couldn’t imagine my life without you.  I would have been happy for us to go on as before…before our hearts became involved.  But you threw it all away, Rumpel.  One kiss and everything went straight to hell.”       

        Rumpelstiltskin knew in that moment there was only one way to prove the seriousness of his claim. Professing his love to her wouldn’t be enough.  He had to show her.  He cupped her face in his hands and pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth, so close to her lips, yet far enough away not to invoke the magic.  “I love you,” he whispered, brushing his lips over hers to reach the other side of her mouth.  “Please come home with me, have me as your husband and let me show you for the rest of my life just how much you mean to me.”  She stiffened in his embrace as he molded her lips to his, her foot coming down on his already bruised instep and her hands pushing forcibly against his chest.

        He stumbled back against the sofa, the frame catching him behind his legs and making him sit down whether he wanted to or not.  She retreated a safe distance and glared at him as if he’d taken leave of his senses.  “You…you can’t…”

        “Yes, I can, Belle.  I would happily give up everything for you,” he said, regaining his feet.

        Her anger was quickly being replaced by confusion.  “I won’t let you.  I can’t be responsible for taking everything away from you,” she said, shaking her head as she backed away from him.

        He raked a hand through his hair in frustration, his eyes pleading with her.  Why was she the only person he knew who could reduce him to a quivering mass of nerves that left him doubting himself at every turn?  “Don’t you see, Belle?  You _are_ everything to me.”

        “Not your son, Rumpel.  You said it yourself.  You need your magic to find him.  I can’t take the chance…”

        His head felt like it was in a fog and he was having trouble concentrating.  Just the brief moment he’d had his lips pressed to Belle’s had the Dark One shrieking in his skull.  He did his best to ignore him and pulled the diamond from the pocket of his waistcoat.  “I may have found a way to have both.  It’s why it took me so long to come for you, m’Belle.  The diamond was a bit difficult to procure and I’ll probably be forever indebted to the hatter for his assistance, but I had to try.”

        Belle watched him warily as she moved closer to peer at the ring clasped tightly between his fingers.  “Aside from its beauty, what’s so special about it?” she asked, mesmerized by the swirling pink and blue mist that danced at the diamond’s core.

        Rumpelstiltskin shrugged and waved a hand dismissively.  “I may have spelled it to repel the magic of true love’s kiss.  The spell was quite powerful…nearly blew up my workroom.  It also contains a protection spell.  See the blue mist as it swirls around the pink?  It will protect you against any magic…other than my own,” he explained, feeling uncomfortable beneath her penetrating gaze and narrowed eyes.   “Would you…ah…care to test it?” he asked, his amber orbs filled with hope.

        Belle’s brow furrowed with a frown and she chewed her lip thoughtfully.  “And we’ll…ah…we’ll be able to… to kiss?”

        “If that is what you wish,” he replied, his chest aching with the need to breathe as he awaited her decision.

        Her hand balled into a fist as she fought the urge to take the ring from him.  “Rumpel, what if it isn’t enough?  What if there are too many things broken between us?”

        He reached for her hand, brushing his lips to her knuckles as he could clearly see her resolve weakening.  “We will fix it.  Whatever you wish, sweetheart.  Please don’t let what I did destroy us.  Accept my ring, have me for your husband and let me love you.  Let me spend my life making you happy.”  He dropped to his knees before her and buried his face in her abdomen so she couldn’t see the tears that had formed in his own eyes.  “Please, m’Belle.  I love you so much.  I _need_ you so very much.”

        Belle stared down at his bowed head in awe.  She had the great Dark One on his knees before her, supplicating himself, groveling for her forgiveness, for her love and acceptance.  He wielded the most powerful magics in the realm and had doubtfully ever been in such a position.  She knew if she refused him, she would lose him forever and all the anger and hurt and heartache abandoned her leaving only enough room in her heart for the love she held for him.

        She carded her hands through his hair, reveling in its softness as she urged him to stand.  “A-Are you certain this is what you want, Rum?”

        “More than anything,” he assured her once more.

        Belle held out her hand and relaxed her fingers so he could slip the ring onto the fourth finger of her left hand.  It was cold against her heated flesh and she couldn’t quite hold back her gasp.  She could feel the magic of the gem creep over her flesh as if it were forming an invisible barrier around her.  “I’m still angry with you,” she stated, but her heart really wasn’t in it as he stood and pulled her into the circle of his arms.

        “I know, dearest,” he said, trailing his lips along the curve of her jaw.

        Her hands snaked up his chest to delve into the hair at his nape, her eyes closing as a welcome heat unfurled in her belly.  “No more hiding your feelings from me.”

        His hands fisted in the silk covering the curve of her hips and he groaned, feeling himself grow hard with wanting her as her nails scraped against his scalp.  “No hiding,” he promised, running the flat of his tongue over the mark beneath her ear.  She shivered with delight and he increased the pressure against the mark he’d placed on her. He was still hesitant to kiss her, but he wouldn’t be able to postpone it indefinitely, especially if she continued to writhe in his arms as she was doing.

        “And…”

        “Belle, love, please shut up and let me kiss you,” he said, nibbling at her lower lip before taking it between his own as her words died away.  He delved a hand into her hair, destroying her intricate coiffure, holding her head in his palm to stop her from pulling away.  He could feel the magic fighting to unleash itself upon him as his lips moved slowly and sensuously over her petal soft lips.  Right then, he didn’t care if the curse melted away and he turned to dust, so long as he didn’t have to stop touching her, kissing her.  Tentatively he ran his tongue along the seam of her lips, begging silently for entrance.  She gasped softly, leaving herself open for his invasion.  He was trying to move slowly for her, trying not to let his passion have free reign, but it was increasingly difficult when she tasted finer than any wine he’d ever drunk and emitting soft moans that got lost in his mouth as he swallowed them down.  His tongue searched out every inch of her mouth, seeking every spot that would bring her pleasure and force her to continue making those sweet sounds in her throat.

        Belle finally broke away, desperate for air, and searched his face for any sign of change.  “It worked,” she breathed happily, glancing down at the ring on her hand in wonder.

        “So, do I have your promise?  You’ll marry me?” he asked, still uncertain of her answer.  “It’s forever, m’Belle.  I won’t be able to let you go once I have you.  You won’t be able to change your mind later.”

        “I will…forever,” she squeaked as he crushed her to him, his arms wrapping around her like steel bands.  “I…”  her voice trailed off as she looked toward the door of the study.  “Did you hear that?”

        He raised a brow and sneered at the door, having a good idea of what was going on out in the corridor.  He just couldn’t bring himself to care.  His love was in his arms, pressed tightly to him and flushed with desire, but it was her wish to investigate.  With a thought, the door banged open and three large bodies tumbled forth into the room, limbs sprawled and lips moving in surprised curses.

        Belle moved out of Rumpelstiltskin’s embrace, despite his anguished groan, and strode to the bumbling fools thrashing about on the floor.  “Really?  You’re peeking through keyholes now?  What are you lot, a bunch of five year olds?”  she asked dryly, planting her hands on her hips and glaring down at them with marked disdain.

        “Well…”

        “You see, it was like this…”

        “We weren’t spying…”

        “Gaston, I expected better of you,” she scolded, offering him a hand up.  “And, Jefferson, what would Alice say to know you’ve stooped to peering through keyholes?  Brutal, I don’t even know what to say to you.”  She looked around, expecting to see her father amidst the heap.  “Papa didn’t come with you?  I’m amazed.”

        Maurice peered around the door frame when his name was mentioned, a sheepish grin on his flushed face.  “We were…um…concerned when you didn’t come back to the ball.”

        If Rumpelstiltskin hadn’t been so chagrined at having had to relinquish his hold on her, he would be giggling at the red faces of the men before him.  He snaked his arms around her waist from behind and rested his chin on her shoulder, savoring her closeness for a moment before asking, “Shall I send them off somewhere, love?  Perhaps somewhere _far_ away?” he asked, holding out his hands for her to see the magic crackling at his fingertips.

        “I don’t think that will be necessary,” she said with a soft chuckle that went straight to his groin as she kissed his cheek and rested her head against his.  She remembered her father’s presence as he cleared his throat and she blushed, resting her arms over Rumpelstiltskin’s.  “Alright, you lot, off with you,” she retorted, shooing them out of the study.  “I would like a few more moments with my betrothed before we return to the ball.  Go, off with you.”

        “Betrothed?” her father asked dubiously, remembering the state she’d been in since she’d come home.  There was no way he was going to allow a marriage between his daughter and the Dark One until he’d had his say in the matter.  He squared his shoulders and glared at the imp’s possessive embrace about the princess.  “Not bloody likely.”

        “Papa!”

        “Until Rumpelstiltskin and I have had a few words,” he amended.

        She felt the tension drain out of her love as he relaxed against her back, knowing he was confident that any words he might have with the king would work out in their favor.  He waited until the four men filed out of the study before hauling her back against his chest and nipping playfully at her lips.  After what they’d already been through, hammering out a betrothal contract should be a piece of cake.


	9. Chapter 9

**“** So, my darling girl, you truly are going to give him another chance?  You really think he’s worth it?” Jefferson asked, tightening his grip on Belle’s waist as he twirled her about the dance floor, his grey eyes alight with mischief.  He’d heard everything through the keyhole outside the king’s study, but he still wished to have a confirmation from her own lips.  He’d like nothing better than to see his friends find happiness with each other, but he knew better than anyone that sometimes it was easier said than done.

        Belle’s eyes never left Rumpelstiltskin as she danced with the hatter.  He stood lounging against her gilded throne, his stance relaxed even though she knew he was anything but.  She could tell he was anxious, simply by the way the fingers of his right hand rubbed together reflexively and the tight lines that formed at the corners of his mouth. She knew because she was experiencing the same.  But she had done as her papa had asked and excused them so they could talk.  She shouldn’t have been forced to return to the ball.  She looked a mess, her lips swollen from Rumpelstiltskin’s kisses and her hair falling about her shoulders in disarray from his long fingers.  But it was expected of her and as long as she remained in Avonlea, she would have to do her duty.  One dance, however, was all she was willing to promise.  They were discussing her own fate and she would not allow any signatures to be placed on a contract if she wasn’t directly involved in writing it.

        Jefferson released her waist to tip her chin up to meet his gaze.  “You’re not listening to a word I’m saying, are you?”

        Belle briefly let her gaze meet his before she returned it to Rumpelstiltskin and her father.  “I’m sorry, Jefferson,” she said, casting him a small smile.  “And yes, I am giving him a second chance.  I love him.”

        “If it makes you feel any better, he was quite miserable without you.”

        That seemed to be the right thing to say to draw her attention to him.  “The Dark One doesn’t allow others to see when he’s upset, Jeff.  How could _you_ tell?”

        Jefferson allowed his lips to curve into a smirk, one that had several of the ladies hovering near the dance floor fanning themselves rapidly.  “He didn’t sleep, rarely ate and he became obsessed with your journal.  The one time I innocently plucked it from the dining table, he planted me waist deep in the floor.  Your absence was greatly felt, m’dear.  If nothing else, you need to come home just to ensure us a decent pot of tea,” he remarked drolly.

        Belle snorted, relieved that the dance was finally over and she could return to Rumpelstiltskin’s side.  He wasn’t looking very happy and her father’s ruddy complexion was becoming bright red.  She thanked Jefferson for the dance and climbed the short flight of steps up to the dais, taking her seat on her gilded throne.  Rumpelstiltskin visibly relaxed now that she’d been returned to his side and he took her hand in his, rubbing the pad of his thumb leisurely over her knuckles.

        “…don’t know what it’s been like since she’s been home.  I am not going to allow you to take her off to your lair for you to hurt her again.  I won’t have it!” Maurice bellowed.  “She hardly eats, barely sleeps, has been partaking in activities unbecoming to a woman of her station…”

        At that, Rumpelstiltskin quirked a brow in her direction.  Never had he seen his Belle act in any way other than the well-bred lady she’d been raised to be.  “What activities?” he asked, ignoring the clenching of his heart at the thought of her not taking care of herself.  He’d been in the same state himself, but he was the Dark One.  He didn’t need as much sleep or nourishment as normal mortals.

        She flushed scarlet beneath his questing glare and shifted uncomfortably.  “Can’t we discuss this later?” she asked, but she was drowned out by her father’s booming voice.

        “My daughter has been racing that steed of hers up and down the coast with no thought to injuring herself, she has been sneaking out of the palace at night, doing Gods know what…and don’t think I didn’t know about that, my girl,” he railed, dismissing her surprise with a wave of his beefy bejeweled hand.  “She has shown no interest in her library or her journal since her return.  But the worst thing…” He paused to catch his breath and Belle groaned, knowing what was coming.  She didn’t relish the idea of having to explain her actions to her betrothed.  “The worst thing was when I caught her on the training field.”

        “Papa!”

        “You deliberately put yourself in harm’s way?” Rumpelstiltskin growled in a low tone.  She could literally feel the anger rolling off of him in waves.

        “I was in no danger,” she said defensively, glaring at her father with enough heat in her eyes to fry him alive.  For once, she was thankful that she possessed no magic, because at that moment she could not be held accountable for any harm she might inflict upon her father.

        “And you allowed this!” Rumpelstiltskin hissed angrily.  “You allowed her on a training field with knights that easily outweigh her by ten stone, that are far more capable with weapons and who could easily crush her?  What kind of father are you?”

        Belle cringed at the heat in his voice and rose from her seat to step between them.  She raised her hands and pressed them firmly to Rumpelstiltskin’s chest.  “Please, Rumpel, he didn’t know.  I forbid Brutal from telling him.  He put a stop to it when he caught me in the act,” she said, trying to make him understand that her father wasn’t to blame.  “I promise, Rumpel, I was in no danger.  I’m not some simpering damsel in distress.  I’m more than capable of handling myself.”

        He reached out and twirled a lock of her hair around his long finger, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger to feel the softness of it, willing his ire to cool as he held her pleading gaze.  “It’s my fault.  If I hadn’t sent you…”

        She placed her fingertips to his lips to stop him.  “We’ll not be blaming each other for things we did in the past.  We’re together now and we’re to be married.  I won’t have your recriminations and self-loathing getting in the way of our fresh start.”  She aimed her next words over her shoulder in the direction of her irate father.  “And no one will keep as apart.  Isn’t that right, papa?”

        Rumpelstiltskin couldn’t have cared less if the king agreed or not, his amber eyes staring down into an endless ocean of blue so filled with love and determination that it quelled his own fears of their future.  And Maurice wasn’t finished.  “I will hold off my decision for now, my girl.  There are still many things to be discussed.  I won’t have him whisking you away again until I’m certain that this is the right decision for you,” he stated adamantly.

        The imp couldn’t repress a smile as she wrenched away from him to stand beside her father’s throne and bend at the waist to hiss furiously in his ear.  Whatever she said to him left the king’s usually ruddy face pale and bloodless, his mouth gaping and gasping for words that wouldn’t come.  She smiled brightly when he nodded his acquiescence.  “I am happy that we have been able to reach an accord, papa, and I’m certain we shall all be able to sit down in the morning over breakfast to decide what will go into the betrothal contract.”

        “Of course, daughter,” he said numbly, slouching back in his throne in defeat.  She was just as stubborn as her mother had been and he should have known better than to try to argue with her.

        She flounced back to Rumpelstiltskin’s side and placed her hand in the crook of his arm.  “Happy birthday, papa,” she said sweetly and let him lead her off the dais. 

        He pulled her into his arms as they reached the edge of the dance floor and twirled her about as the first strains of a waltz began to play.  “Do you think we might dance this time without so much abuse to my feet?” he asked, pulling her tightly into his embrace, uncaring that he was holding her much more closely than what society deemed appropriate.

        Her face flamed and she was hard pressed not to hide her embarrassment against his shoulder.  “I can’t be held accountable for something I did in anger…at least this time.  I was still hurting and couldn’t help giving back just a little.”

        “I deserved much worse, dearest,” he said, his clawed hand caressing the curve of her hip as they danced.  “Now, would you care to tell me what you said to your father to have him changing his mind about our betrothal?” he asked, changing the subject before she could scold him again for his regrets.

        He twirled her outward and then back into the circle of his arms before she was able to answer, her lips curled into a mischievous grin and her cerulean eyes sparkling merrily. She was truly breathtaking in her beauty now that happiness had been returned to her soul.  “I simply told him that if he denied me my heart’s desire, I would invite him out to the training field and wipe the ground with him.”

        It was his turn to grin and his giggle trilled, startling several couples that danced at a safe distance away from them.  “I think I’m beginning to wish I could see you in action, m’Belle.  How is it that you kept this from me for so long?”

        She shrugged as if her accomplishments were of no consequence.  “I grew up with the sure knowledge that one day I would be queen.  I felt it was my duty to learn how to lead.  How would it look to send my knights into battle to defend my kingdom if I couldn’t join them on the field?  I wanted to be a strong leader, so I had Gaston and Brutal train me in secret.  Now, Brutal is the only one I can convince to spar with me. Besides, you never asked and I didn’t think the knowledge was pertinent to our relationship.  It’s not likely that I could have sparred with you.”

        “And why not?  It might have been quite entertaining?” he asked, a teasing note in his voice.

        “I’m certain you would have found it vastly entertaining.  And then when I would’ve been close to beating you, you would have cheated and used magic.  Think of how damaging to your ego it would have been to be bested by a woman,” she retorted.

        “You’re that confident of your skills?” he asked, quirking a brow at her.  He wracked his brain, trying to remember if he had any practice swords back at the castle.

        “I am,” she said, nodding.

        “You are unlike any noble I’ve ever met before,” he said, completely in awe of her.  His knowledge of nobles would never be the same.  Nobles were vain, spoiled, selfish creatures who care not a whit for the lives of those that serve them.  And he was certain he’d never met a princess who would willingly lead her armies into battle and sacrifice herself for others.  His love had more layers than an onion and he looked forward to spending the next century peeling them back until he knew all of her.

        “I suppose that is a good thing considering your disdain for nobles.  Perhaps one day you will tell me why you hate them so.”

        He tipped her chin up to brush his lips to her brow.  “I will tell you anything you wish to know, my darling Belle.” 

        Brutus was waiting for them as Rumpelstiltskin led her off the floor, bowing low to her and looking quite uncomfortable.  “Dark One, highness.  I have been asked to inform you that a room has been prepared for your…ah…betrothed.”  He kept his eyes trained on Belle, leery to meet the sorcerer’s gaze.  “If you would like me to escort you…” he offered.

        “Thank you, Brutal,” she said solicitously, waving him off to proceed them from the ballroom.  Rumpelstiltskin was content to follow along as he twined his fingers with Belle’s.  She rested her head on his shoulder, groaning when she realized where Brutus was leading them.  “He wouldn’t!”

        “He did, highness,” Brutus said, opening the door next to her father’s suite of rooms.  “I’m also to stand as guard to make certain the both of you…er…behave yourself.”

        Belle ground her teeth together and muffled a shriek of rage behind her hand.  “I can’t believe he would do such a thing.”  Her face turned scarlet in her mortification, just imagining what her father had said to her friend to have him blushing like a youth instead of the knight he was.

        Rumpelstiltskin glowered at their guard until the man moved off a discreet distance down the corridor to allow them some privacy.  When he was satisfied, he gently pulled Belle against his chest and laid his head against her crown, his hands rubbing soothing circles along the ridge of her spine.  “It’s late, sweetheart.  You should try to get some rest,” he said grudgingly.

        Unshed tears of frustration danced at her dark lashes and she pressed herself more firmly to his chest, her hands caught between them and toying with his cravat.  She remembered the painstaking care she’d used to stitch the silk at his neck and it meant the world to her that he was proudly wearing her gift.  “I’m not tired.”

        “You were yawning not ten minutes ago,” he said, chuckling at her petulant tone.

        Belle pressed her lips to his neck above the silk of his cravat and took great satisfaction in his soft gasp.  His heart increased in tempo beneath her hand and his hand slipped into her hair to caress her nape.  “Three weeks has seemed a lifetime without you.  Is it selfish of me that I can’t bear to be parted from you now?  I’ve missed you terribly, Rumpelstiltskin.  I’ve missed our tea time and our talks over dinner.  I’ve missed sitting before the fire and reading to you.  I’ve missed the way you used to look at me as though unable to believe I enjoyed your company.” She chuckled ruefully.  “I’ve even missed the sound of the wheel as you’d spin.  Isn’t that…”

        But she wasn’t allowed to finish, his hand in her hair dragging her head back and his lips descending to hers to claim them for his own.  His lips were gentle yet firm as he teased her, sliding and molding to hers, coaxing her to open for him.  Now when he kissed her he could feel the magic of true love wrap around him like an embrace, its power no longer threatening to drain him.  Now it allowed her love to creep in and caress his very soul and for the first time in his very long existence, he felt free.  Free to be the man he once was, free to live, to love, to hope.  Because of his Belle, because she had dared to love a beast.

        “I love you so much, m’Belle,” he whispered reverently against her kiss-swollen lips.  “You couldn’t be selfish if you tried.  You’re so giving, so loving and I am the last person in the realm to ever deserve you.  I was such a fool to think that you would betray me.  You will never know how much I regret sending you away, hurting you.  I…” His voice broke, the emotion lodged in his throat comparable to that off a knife’s blade.

        The tears that had gathered in her eyes spilled unheeded as she brushed at the moisture that escaped from his own.  “Shh, my Rumpel, don’t cry.  We’re together now and that’s all that matters.”  He buried his face in the crook of her neck and took a shuddering breath, breathing in her warm scent of sunshine and roses and everything that was pure and good while she stroked his curls and held him as if she’d never let him go.  “I’ve loved you for so long.  If I would have had the courage to tell you, we could have avoided so much pain.”

        He lifted his head so that she could see the wealth of promise shining in his eyes.  “No more, dear heart.  No more pain, only love.  I promise I will do everything in my power to make certain you are safe and protected, loved and cherished, that you never doubt my feelings for you ever again.”   

        She laughed, the sound foreign to her ears after so much heartache, and let him brush her tears away as she had done his.  “I’m going to hold you to that.  And if it’s one thing I do know, it is that you _never_ break your word.”

        He would have remained standing in the corridor with her indefinitely if the sound of heavy footsteps hadn’t brought them back to reality.  Her father, flanked by his personal valet and Gaston, blinked in surprise.  “I thought you had retired, my girl,” he said, shooing Gaston to his own room several doors down from the one Rumpelstiltskin would be occupying.  The sorcerer was very near purring in her arms and she had no desire to step out of his embrace, regardless of what her father thought. 

        “We were just saying goodnight, papa,” she said softly, gazing up into her love’s warm amber eyes and brushing her fingers through the hair that had a tendency to fall over his eyes.

        “Oh…is that what you’re doing?” he asked, the corners of his mouth twitching as he fought back a smile at his daughter’s obvious happiness.  “It looks to me like you’re contemplating him like a bit of your favorite chocolate dessert,” he teased.  He then mumbled under his breath, “This will be the shortest betrothal in history.”

        “Papa!” she shrieked indignantly, burying her face against Rumpelstiltskin’s chest which shook with laughter.  Apparently her father had gotten over his upset in defense of her honor and had accepted that she would allow nothing to get in the way of her forthcoming nuptials.  And she loved that he had to play the angered father bit.

        “Good night, my girl.”  Maurice chuckled lowly as he disappeared behind his door without another word.  He was pleased to have his daughter back to the happy girl he remembered instead of the broken woman she’d been when she’d returned home.  He just wasn’t ecstatic about her leaving him once again to live with her new husband.  He shuddered in revulsion.  Leave it to his daughter to fall in love with a beast.  She always had been a bit odd, but did she have to take it to such extremes?

        Rumpelstiltskin brushed the backs of his knuckles against her cheek, smiling softly at the rosy hue of her blushes.  He was trying desperately not to think of other activities that could make her blush as he took her hand to lead her down the corridor to her own suite of rooms.  He coiled a lock of her hair around his finger as he gazed down at her, worrying when her face fell in dismay.  “What is it, m’Belle?”

        “Rumpel, please tell me you’re really here, that I’m not going to wake up in the morning and find it’s all been a dream,” she pleaded, fisting her hands in the crimson brocade of his waistcoat.

        He dipped his head, taking her lips in the softest of kisses and then pressing his brow to hers, the contact reaffirming that he was indeed with her.  “It’s not a dream, love.  I’m really here with you.  I will be with you always.”  He raised her left hand and pressed a kiss to the diamond on her finger.  “If you wake and doubt it, you have but to look at this token of my affection to know it’s real.”

        “I don’t want to leave you.  Stay with me,” she whispered, her breath ragged as she pressed her lips to his throat.  “Stay with me.”  She chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip as she took in his discomfort.  He drew his arms away from her and steepled his hands before him.  She reached out and caught his sleeve before he closed down completely. 

        “Belle, I…”

        “I promise to be on my best behavior.  We’ll have tea in my sitting room before we retire,” she said hurriedly, trying to reassure him.  “Gaston and I have done so more times than I can count.  I assure you it is entirely proper.”  When he still looked as though he wished to flee, she offered, “We can even leave the door open if it makes you more comfortable.”

        “Your special blend with the chamomile?” he asked, nearly salivating at the thought of a decent brew shared with his Belle.  He’d been dreaming of it for days and she was so insistent that he couldn’t very well deny them both.

        She beamed up at him, her smile blinding over her small victory, and ushered him inside while she asked, “Brutal, dear, might you have Penelope fetch us a tea try and possibly some refreshments.  I find myself rather hungry.  And ask her to bring my chamomile blend for tea.”

        “Highness, his majesty…” he balked, quickly trailing off as she held up a finger to silence him.

        “Run along, Brutal,” she ordered firmly, only her smile lessening the scolding tone of her voice.  She wasn’t going to add that she had spent a good portion of the last year with her dark sorcerer and he’d been nothing less than a gentleman.       

        Rumpelstiltskin was standing before her bookshelf perusing her collection, his shoulders stiff with unease when she entered her sitting room, making sure that she did indeed leave the door open.  She slipped her arms around his waist from behind and rested her cheek between his shoulder blades, feeling him tense and pause with his hand on the spine of one of her journals.  Slowly, he let the tension ease from his body and he relaxed against her, placing his hand over hers.

        “I’ve never been in your personal space before,” he said in a low tone.  Once he’d moved her above stairs in the Dark Castle, they’d come to an unspoken agreement that her room was her own and he wouldn’t invade her privacy there.  Now, standing in her private sitting room of her childhood suite, he couldn’t seem to relax completely.

        “You’ll get used to it eventually, Rumpel,” she said, muffling a giggle against his coat.  “What are you looking at?”

        He shrugged and pulled her around to see for herself.  “Is this entire shelf filled with journals?” he asked, gesturing to the red leather tomes that took up the better part of a shelf.

        Reluctantly, he let Belle slide his frock coat from his shoulders and lay it across the arm of the sofa.  “Yes.  I’ve kept one since the age of nine.  I used to drive my papa mad.  I was either reading a new book or writing in my journal.  He always teased me that I would be married one day with a book in my hand.  But don’t worry…I don’t plan on walking down the aisle with anything more than a bouquet of flowers.  All my attention will be focused on my handsome groom.”

        He sat down on the sofa beside her, snorting at her comment and thinking his Belle would be the only one to ever think a monster handsome.  “No one will notice me once they see you in your bridal finery,” he said, sighing contentedly as she curled up against him and tucked her feet beneath her, her head coming to rest against his shoulder.

        “This is much nicer than standing out in the drafty corridor,” she said with a mischievous gleam in her eyes.  They sat in silence, enjoying one another’s company and the pure joy of being with each other after such a lengthy absence.  Her servant brought in the tea tray followed by Brutus carrying a smaller tray with refreshments.  Her stomach growled as she spied the assortments of cakes, pastries and a small plate of sandwiches.

        “Did you eat nothing at the gala?” he asked, raising a brow in her direction.

        “I didn’t really have an appetite at the beginning of the evening.”  She hadn’t had an appetite since leaving the Dark Castle, but she wasn’t about to tell him that.  There would be no end to the scolding he’d likely give her.  “Now I find myself quite famished,” she said, popping a tiny cake into her mouth before moving to pour their tea and handing Rumpelstiltskin a cup.

        The aroma of the tea made his mouth water as he sipped gingerly at the steaming brew.  His palate screamed in ecstasy as her unique blend of tea spread over his tongue.  “Oh, m’Belle, you have no idea how much I’ve missed having tea with you.  One of these days, you must share your secret with me,” he said, a low moan of pleasure easing itself from his lips.

        After he’d consumed three cups of tea and nearly all of the sweets, he sat back and pulled her into his arms, content to hold her until she fell asleep and he would be forced to retire to his own room.  She reached up, cupping his cheek in her palm, her eyes suddenly serious.  “Did you finish the journal, Rumpel?”

        “I did.  I just can’t understand why you would want me to read something so personal,” he replied, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear.

        She blushed deeply as she remembered just how personal some of those entries had been.  “I needed you to know how I feel about you, needed you to know that I would never betray you.  I thought maybe if you could read it in my own hand that you might change your mind and come for me.”  She lowered her eyes and curled her fingers in his cravat, wrinkling the silk with her nervous fidgeting.

        “Belle, love, you know of the enmity I have with Regina though you had never met her before that day on the road.  I overacted and let my fears control me.  You were right when you called me a coward.  I have been my whole life.  I couldn’t let myself believe that you really loved me.”

        “I tried to avoid kissing you, Rum, I really did.  I’d even been keeping my distance from you for weeks, but I had missed you so much.  That last deal when you were gone so long and then you surprised me,” she tried to explain.

        He traced her lips with the pad of his thumb, silencing her.  “I’m so sorry I hurt you, dear one.  I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I am very grateful for it.”

        Belle laid her head in the crook of his neck where it met his shoulder and deftly untied his cravat, tossing it to lay atop his coat.  She slipped her hand into his shirt and rested her hand over his heart.  “You deserve to be happy, my darling, whether you admit it or not.”

        “You don’t know what I’ve done in my past, Belle.  You may have a different opinion once I’ve shared everything with you,” he said, shuddering at the thought of that conversation.  “But we shall save that for tomorrow.  Do you think we might be able to spend the afternoon together? Or will you be swamped with wedding plans?”

        “We will make time,” she replied, stifling a huge yawn.  “Now tell me, what was your favorite entry in my journal?”

         He thought for a moment, trying to figure that out for himself.  There were so many interesting entries in her journal, several in fact that had captivated his attention and fascinated him at the same time.  “I don’t really have a favorite.  It was amazing, all of it.  I think what intrigued me the most was how you could ever fall in love with me after the abominable way I treated you when you first came to my home.”

        “Because I saw _you_ , Rumpel, the real you.  There’s love in your heart and no matter how hard you tried to hide it, I was able to see it, see you.”  She yawned again, fighting to stay awake, reluctant to let a moment of their reunion be lost to sleep.  There were still so many things she wanted to say, but her lack of sleep over the last few weeks was making itself known.

        “It was a daily struggle trying to hide myself from you.  You make me want to be other than the monster I am.”  The arm he had wrapped about her waist tightened as he hugged her to him, his hand ghosting up her side to rest against the stiff whalebone of her corset.  She couldn’t possibly be comfortable.  She startled slightly as crimson smoke enveloped her.  When it cleared, she was dressed in a lovely sapphire negligee and dressing gown, the same one she favored that she’d left behind at the Dark Castle draped across the foot of her bed.  It was more than acceptable for her modesty and was much less distracting than the low décolletage of her ball gown.

         “Not a monster.  Just my Rumpelstiltskin, my love, my…” She lost the battle against her fatigue and drifted to sleep in his arms, her hand still covering his chest over his heart.  He pressed a kiss to her brow and smiled contentedly, reveling in their closeness.  He found he could get used to having her so close.  With her he didn’t have to pretend.  She would always see through him to who he really was.  With her the mischievous imp could retreat and let him be himself…a spinner, a husband and with a bit of luck perhaps a father once again.  He’d never give up hope that he’d be reunited with his son, but now he had Belle at his side to search with him and he’d never let her go, or her love.


	10. Chapter 10

Rumpelstiltskin was still awake, his fingers idly playing with a lock of Belle’s long chestnut curls when her eyes fluttered open.  He glared at the nervous twittering of the servants who carried bucket upon bucket of hot water through the sitting room and into the main chamber of Belle’s suite to fill her bathtub, their heavy footfalls having disturbed her sleep.  He really should have retired to his own room the previous evening, but he’d been loathe to leave her, enjoying having her slumber in his arms.  It was overwhelming, this desire he had for her, to kiss her, to touch her and have her so responsive in his arms, something he’d never expected to share with _anyone,_ let alone his true love. Her delicate little hand smoothed over his bare chest beneath his shirt and he closed his eyes, praying for the moment she became his wife and he could take liberties with her that he couldn’t take at present.

        “Good morning,” Belle murmured happily, her hand leaving his chest to trail up to his hair to tug his head down for a lingering kiss.  “It wasn’t a dream,” she said, her smile blinding in its radiance.  She dropped her gaze as Penelope entered the room with her morning tea tray, disentangling herself from Rumpelstiltskin’s arms and pouring him a cup of the steaming brew.  She added a slice of lemon and an ungodly amount of sugar and placed it in his hands before she asked, “Did you stay with me all night?”

        “There’s nowhere else I would rather be, m’Belle,” he answered truthfully.  “Did you sleep well?” he asked in turn over the rim of his cup.

        Belle thought for a moment and plucked at the ties of her dressing gown.  “Actually, that’s the first time I’ve slept through the night since coming home.”  She cupped his face in her small hands and pressed her lips to his, kissing him tenderly.  “Thank you for staying with me.”  

        He opened his mouth to answer, but didn’t get the chance as Mrs. Potts bustled into the room.  “Highness, his majesty is already awaiting you on the terrace for breakfast.  You must hurry,” she said, ushering Belle to her feet.  “And you,” she said, wagging a finger at Rumpelstiltskin.  “Room empty, bed not slept in and I come in here to find you cavorting and carrying on with my mistress, keeping her from her morning toilette.  Off with you, lad,” she scolded, flapping her apron at him and shooing him toward the door.

        Rumpelstiltskin jumped to his feet and pulled Belle behind him, his eyes widening in alarm as he glowered down at the short, plump housekeeper with awe.  Did she even know who she was upbraiding?  He glanced over his shoulder to find Belle giving in to a fit of giggles at his discomfiture.  He glared at Mrs. Potts.  “Woman!  Cease your prattling at once,” he roared, quite undone by her diatribe and wishing to assert his authority as Belle’s betrothed since his status as the most feared mage in the land had no effect on her.

        The elderly servant was unfazed.  “Go on, off with you.  Gaston is waiting for you in the hall.  He’ll show you to the commons so you can bathe and dress for breakfast with the king,” she said, tugging on his sleeve, completely unfazed by his angry sneer.  He went, grumbling the entire time, mentioning something about _how servants just don’t know their place_ and something that sounded like _no respect for the Dark One._   He went out into the hall, glancing over his shoulder for one last look at his beloved as he was forced to be parted from her even if only for a short time.

        Belle was still laughing as Penelope took her hand and dragged her off to her bedchamber, highly amused at her sorcerer.  She would no doubt have to listen to his complaints for the better part of the morning over the highhandedness of her servants, but it was all worth it to see the chagrin on his face as he left the room.

 

XOOOX

 

        Belle giggled, Rumpelstiltskin grumbled.  She smiled, he smirked.  She rested her head on his shoulder, he twined his fingers with hers.  She blushed, his amber eyes filled with heat.  Breakfast with her father and Gaston was guaranteed to be interesting this morning with the addition of her betrothed, she thought, a gamine-like grin perched on her lips.  Late spring in the Marchlands was nothing like the spring in the region where the Dark One resided, the region that promised one harsh winters and mild summers and very little of spring and autumn. At barely eight in the morning, the weather was already hot and humid and she was indeed pleased that her father had chosen to have their meal set up on the terrace to enjoy what little breeze there was.  Her thin muslin gown of dove gray was already beginning to stick to her and she wished the weather didn’t affect her so easily.  Rumpelstiltskin seemed comfortable enough in his leather pants, silk shirt of forest green and brocade waistcoat.  But then she suspected he was insusceptible to heat and cold.

        Her father and Gaston were already seated at the table that could easily seat eight, the cloth covered surface hosting an array of breakfast dishes that should please even the pickiest of eaters. Belle dropped a peck to her father’s cheek as he stood to greet her.  “You look radiant this morning, my girl,” Maurice said in greeting as she moved to Gaston’s side and hugged him warmly.

        Rumpelstiltskin growled in warning and Belle swatted him playfully as she led him to the other side of the table to take his seat beside her.  “Behave, Rumpel.  There’s no need to be jealous,” she whispered, her bright smile betraying the fact that she was pleased at his obvious display.  He continued to glower at the knight, however, as he settled back into his chair. 

        Belle piled a plate high with eggs, bacon, sausages, and potatoes and set it before him, hoping his attention would be drawn away from her friend and onto the offerings in front of him.  “So, papa, what are your plans for the day after we discuss the betrothal contract?” she asked, filling her own plate.

        He answered, but it was Rumpelstiltskin that his gaze was focused on.  “Gaston and I were going to ask the Dark One to join us on a tour of our lands.  If he is to be your consort, I feel that he should familiarize himself with the kingdom and its people.”

        “At least those that don’t run in fear at the very sight of him,” Gaston mumbled under his breath.

        Belle felt Rumpelstiltskin tense beside her, the only warning she received before her sorcerer snapped his fingers.  Gaston’s fork clattered to his fine china plate and in his seat sat a sweet little black spaniel puppy.  Rumpelstiltskin continued eating without a word, unfazed at the king’s gaping and gasping.

        Belle picked up her knife and began buttering her scone, sighing in consternation.  “Darling, really?  We haven’t even begun negotiations and you’ve already lost your temper.  Please?” she asked, turning to him and offering him a bit of the scone.

        Rumpelstiltskin chewed thoughtfully as he met her gaze.  “First he gets all handsy with you and then he gets lippy with me.  Knowing me as well as you do, dearest, what did you expect?  I let him off lightly.”

        “I’m certain Gaston meant no offense.  Now change him back please.”

        Rumpelstiltskin met her steady gaze, his desire to please her warring with his nature to assert his control over every situation.  It was bad enough that the man in him, the spinner and father and husband he had once been was battling against the Dark One, trying his damnedest to be worthy of his brave beauty and do right by her.  His first instinct was to whisk her back to the Dark Castle and lock her away with him once more without a care for her family.  It was hard to admit to himself that he was jealous of the lumbering oaf of a knight.  The man had been betrothed to Belle before she’d made her deal with him and though he knew his Belle harbored no romantic feelings towards the knight, it didn’t make the situation any easier for him to swallow.

        His contemplations came to an abrupt halt when her delicate hand rose to tug at the ends of his hair as she pulled his head down to whisper in his ear.  “Gaston is no threat to you, Rumpelstiltskin,” she said, her breath ghosting along the shell of his ear and causing him to shiver from the contact.  “He is my closest friend, more of a brother to me.  _You_ are the man I love, the man I wish to marry and share my life with,” she crooned, soothing the beast in him and easing away his doubts.  A low rumble of appreciation erupted in his chest as she pressed a soft kiss to his jaw before she sat back once again in her seat and looked at him expectantly.

        Belle poured him a cup of tea and set it before him as he snapped his fingers once more and returned the knight to his former state.  Gaston swallowed nervously and looked over at the king who had slumped back in his chair, wearily shaking his head.  “Now, father, I think it would be a wonderful idea for Rumpelstiltskin to tour the kingdom with you.  However, it will not be because he will become my consort.  Gaston is your heir now, has been for quite a while.  I never had a desire to be queen; I’m barely fit to be a princess and I gave up my right to the throne when I made my deal with Rumpel.  I don’t want it back.”

        Maurice balked at that.  “But, Belle darling, it is your birthright.”

        “Papa, Gaston will make a fine ruler.  Please try to see that this is what I want,” she said, her eyes pleading as she covered her father’s hand with her own.

        Rumpelstiltskin sighed as he placed his cup on the table and regarded the occupants of the table.  His Belle would have indeed made a fine ruler, but he wouldn’t presume to force her into something that would make her unhappy.  “Here is what I propose,” he began as he became the sole focus of everyone’s attention.  “Frankly, I couldn’t care less about this insignificant little kingdom and its trifles.  All I want is Belle and her happiness.  She has given her word to marry me, therefore your blessing means little to me.”

        “Rumpel…”

        He took her hand in his and squeezed gently to reassure her.  “I don’t want her dowry or her kingdom; I just want her.  In return, I will make certain that Avonlea will thrive and prosper as will all who dwell within its borders.”  He never broke his gaze with hers as happiness spread across her features.  “Does that meet with your approval, dearest?  Do we have a deal?”

        Belle raised a brow at him, studying her wily sorcerer.  “Hmm.  No fine print, no addendums and no loopholes?”

        Rumpelstiltskin shrugged.  “If that is your wish,” he said, producing a contract and quill from thin air.  “You may even add any stipulations I may have overlooked.”

        Belle shifted her chair closer to his and together they read through the betrothal contract.  “I want to be allowed to visit and have my family visit me as well.”  The stipulation was added in bold black ink.  Her brows drew together in a frown as she continued to read.  Her face flushed as her ire rose and she excused herself from the table, dragging Rumpelstiltskin a fair distance away from her father’s acute hearing.

        “What is this?” she asked, shaking the parchment angrily.  “I am not required to share your bed after our marriage is consummated?  I am not required to share your home after a year of marriage if I am in any way displeased with you?  I am not required to bear your children?” she asked, her voice coming out as an irate hiss.

        He lowered his gaze to his hands, unable to meet her eyes.  “Belle, you have agreed to marry the beast.  I don’t feel as though you should have to suffer that aspect of our relationship.”  He didn’t want to displease her in any way, but he could understand if she didn’t desire his touch, he thought as his gaze raked over the discolored flesh of his hands with their blackened claws.  The dozen or so kissed they’d shared aside, there was no guarantee that she desired more.

        “This will be amended before I sign.  I _will_ share your bed, I _will_ live nowhere other than at your side and I _will_ bear any children we may conceive.”  She waited for him to argue, taking advantage of his parted lips to kiss him deeply, uncaring that her father and Gaston were there to witness the desire and passion she felt for her imp.  “I want all of you, Rumpelstiltskin.  I will not settle for anything less.”

        “You may change your mind,” he said with a bit of unease and disbelief tinting his usually confident tone.

        “True love doesn’t work that way.  Our love isn’t only for fair weather days, Rumpel, it is to last us forever, the good and the bad.  _We_ are forever,” she said, gasping as he hauled her into his chest and wrapped his arms tightly about her.

        “I love you, m’Belle,” he whispered reverently against her crown.  With a thought the contract was amended and awaiting their signatures.

        “I love you, too,” she said, leading him back to the table to sign the contract.  When she had finished and his name was drying next to hers, she smiled brightly and a little impishly herself.  “The deal is struck!”

        “Indeed,” he replied, giggling. 

        Maurice groaned as he added his name to the bottom of the contract, just imagining having the Dark One as his son in law was making his ulcer twinge painfully.  “Very well, my girl.  I’m certain Mrs. Potts will be able to aid you in making your preparations for the wedding.  Flowers, invitations, your gown, whatever at all you will need.”

        “I want something small and intimate,” Belle said, reaching for another scone.  “Rumpel, is that alright with you?”

        Rumpelstiltskin poured himself another cup of tea, fighting the urge to flee immediately and take her with him.  He was ready to be done with her relatives and have her all to himself.  “I will be happy with whatever you decide, m’Belle.  I have only one request.”

        “Yes?”

        “That you have us wed in three days.  I’m afraid that will be the end of my patience.”

        Belle blanched, dropped a kiss to his cheek and hurried off the terrace in search of Mrs. Potts.  There was an endless list of things needing to be done before she took her vows and now very little time to accomplish it.  Three days indeed!

 

XOOOX

 

        “Wait!” Belle shouted across the courtyard, running to catch up with Rumpelstiltskin as he was entering the stables.  “Rum, wait!”  She’d met with Mrs. Potts and handed over the task of planning the wedding to her capable hands, wishing to go on the tour with her betrothed rather than spend the day in the palace trying to select the perfect floral arrangements and a menu for the small reception.  Although the word small was relative considering that she would be forced to invite the hundred or so members of her father’s court.  Once she’d gotten Mrs. Potts and her helpers on task, she’d run up to her bedchamber and quickly changed her clothes, opting for a pair of soft brown leather breeches, knee high riding boots and a sky blue silk tunic and chain belt studded with sapphires.  She knew her father would object quite strenuously to her attire, but she was going to dress for ease in the saddle rather than act the part of the princess today.  Strapping her dagger to her thigh, she’d raced down to the stables in the hopes that they hadn’t yet left without her.

        Rumpelstiltskin turned in alarm at the sound of her voice, his eyes searching out any sign of danger and then flaring in disbelief as he took in her attire.  He caught her in his arms as she literally tumbled into him in her haste, her leather clad form molding deliciously to his own.  “Gods, woman, what are you wearing!?” he exclaimed, hiding his face against the crook of her neck and breathing her in.

        Belle shivered as he pressed his lips to her mark before stepping back and offering her his arm.  Her chuckle was deep and throaty in her amusement over his surprise.  “Do you object to my attire, my love?  I was certain you would be…appreciative,” she teased.  He groaned and pulled her closer.  She abandoned her teasing before they both ended up more uncomfortable than necessary…at least for now.  “I thought I would join you on the tour, this morning,” she said a bit breathlessly, tucking her hand in the crook of his arm and walking with him into the stables. 

        “Minx,” he admonished, releasing her hand as one of the stable hands led forth his horse.  He raised a brow as he eyed the beast of a stallion with trepidation.

        “What’s wrong, Rumpel?” Belle asked, taking in his unease.

        “Overlarge beasties and I don’t quite see eye to eye, dearest,” he said, snatching his hand away from the stallion as the beast shied away.

        Belle’s brow knit in a frown.  She’d never in fact seen him anywhere near horses, though there were several in the stables of his estate.  He’d always preferred to travel by magic or carriage.  “You don’t ride?”

        He cast her a noncommittal shrug and a shy smile.  “Never really had to once I became the Dark One and before when I was human we were too poor to afford horseflesh.”

        Belle waved Cedrik away, asking that he return the beast to his stall and saddle Dash.  “You’ll like Dash.  He’s sweet and docile, and with the right push can outrun any knight’s steed by several lengths.”

        “I think they can sense my…unnaturalness and it makes them skittish,” he explained, his brows drawing together as she reached into the small satchel slung over her shoulder and withdrawing several sugar cubes and placing them in his hand.

        Belle laughed softly as her horse was led forward and nudged Rumpelstiltskin’s shoulder gently.  He was surprised by the affection from Belle’s horse and offered the sugar to it, raising his other hand to brush over his nose.  “He must have missed you when you came to live with me, hmm?” he asked quietly.

        “I believe he did.  Perhaps he is trying to make friends with you in hopes that he won’t be left behind again,” she teased, leading him over to the mounting block so she could hoist herself into the saddle unaided.  Her sorcerer still eyed the horse warily.  “Come on, Rumpel, you can ride with me.”

        Rumpelstiltskin snorted.  “How would that look for me to ride with my lady?”

        “It will look as though you can’t abide being parted from me? That you enjoy my company and conversation?” she asked coyly, smiling down at him as she gathered the reins in her leather gloved hand.  She curled her leg over the pommel of her saddle, leaving the stirrup free so he could mount behind her.

        Casting his objections aside, he climbed into the saddle behind her and slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her tightly back against his chest.  “Yes, m’Belle, this is indeed one of your better ideas,” he said, nuzzling his nose against her neck, his hands splaying across her abdomen.

        Belle drew in a sharp breath and bit down on her lip to stifle a moan as heat pooled low in her belly.  “So happy you approve.  I assure you it was with purely selfish motives.”

        “And what might those be, dearest?” he asked, nipping playfully at her ear with his sharp teeth.

        Belle concentrated her attention on leading Dash forward to catch up with her father and his knights, ignoring the fact that Gaston kept glancing over his shoulder and making faces at her.  Already Rumpelstiltskin wasn’t fond of her friend and she didn’t need him to stoke his ire any further.  “Let me see, my motives.  Well, instead of having to join in the tedium of floral arrangements, selecting a menu and such, I get to spend the morning in the fresh air.  Being in your arms is just an added bonus.”

        He held onto her more tightly than necessary, not because he was trying to focus his attention to remaining in the saddle, but because he was still in awe that the petite bundle sitting between his thighs and the fact that she wanted to be there.  The morning passed swiftly as they rode through the countryside, her father expounding on several points of interest.  It was well after lunch when Maurice left them alone in the village to return to the castle.  Belle had Dash returned to the stable by Gaston’s squire and set out on foot with her betrothed to take in the sights of the marketplace.

        They hadn’t been amidst the bustle of market day long before he grew wary and uncomfortable.  It had been many a year, decades even since he’d been amongst such a familiar scene.  He felt raw and exposed, walking hand in hand with Belle, on display as it were without even his cloak to shield him from the stares and whispers.  He was the Dark One and she had reduced him to the poor lame spinner he’d once been.  He brushed her curious stare away dismissively and left her perched on the edge of the stone fountain in the center of the square to procure them some fruit, several meat pies and a loaf of bread from one of the vendors.

        The man handed over the items and bowed to Rumpelstiltskin, thanking him for the generous amount of gold he left him with, causing more unease to creep over the wily sorcerer.  Belle was wearing a worried frown when he rejoined her and placed their luncheon between them.  “You’re worried, Rumpel, why?”

        He gazed out over the crowd and noticed the difference between the people of Avonlea and the small village from home.  “They don’t have the proper fear of me here,” he mumbled, picking apart a bunch of grapes.  “They keep the proper distance, but it’s different.”

        Belle chuckled and reached over to squeeze his hand.  “It bothers you that they treat you like a man instead of a beast?  It is doubtful that they will ever lose their fear of you, but they respect you for what you’ve done for our kingdom.”

        He nodded and let his eyes roam over the stalls, particularly the one featuring fresh wool, yarn, thread and other sundries.  He nibbled on a piece of bread Belle placed in his hand as he watched the peasant hawk his wares.  “I used to have a stall much like that one.  Bae and I would travel half the day to the market several villages away to set up shop for the day.  Bae was able to make a good many friends there and would leave me in search of whatever mischief he could find.”

        Belle chewed slowly, hardly daring to breathe.  She’d waited so very long for him to confide in her about his son, about his life before becoming the Dark One, she was afraid the slightest movement would make him close himself off again.  It was a struggle to keep her innate curiosity at bay.  She needn’t have worried about her own questions disturbing the moment.  Several of the village children hesitantly approached them, banishing the silence that had fallen between them.

        “Princess!”

“Princess!”

“Did you bring us sweets today?”

“Are you going to tell us a story?”

        Belle smiled brightly at the children as they gathered around her and settled at her feet on the cobbles.  “I did bring you something,” she said, pulling a wrapped bundle from the leather satchel slung over her shoulder.  They eyed Rumpelstiltskin with curiosity, but very little fear as they waited anxiously for Belle to bestow her gift on them.  One little girl, no more than four, edged her way around the group, trying to find an opening to get closer to Belle, finally coming to stand next to him.

        Rumpelstiltskin stared down at her with surprise as she tugged gently on his sleeve, her thumb planted firmly in her mouth.  “And who might you be, lass?” he asked in a soft tone as he bent forward to put himself eye level with the child.

        Belle leaned closer to him so he could hear her over the excitement surrounding them.  “That is Penelope’s daughter, Lyssa,” she explained quickly before her attention was captured by more questions from the children.

        “Princess, we want a story!”

        “Story!”

        “Please, Princess!”

        Belle knew she was probably going to be in all sorts of trouble with her love, but she couldn’t help the rebellious streak that presented itself within her.  She turned to him and smiled, her eyes alight with mischief.  “Perhaps Rumpelstiltskin might tell us all a story today.”

        Silence fell over the group and the children shared wide eyed looks of excitement with one another, their little mouths gaping in awe at the mention of his name.  He raised a brow at her, his amber gaze promising retribution.  Lyssa tugged on his sleeve once more, nodding her head excitedly, bouncing on her toes.

        “Please!”

        “Story!”

        Rumpelstiltskin lost what little control he had on his resistance as Lyssa climbed up on his lap and laid her head on his chest, her bright green eyes staring up at him expectantly as though he’d promised to tell every story he knew to his rapt audience.  The corners of his mouth twitched up in a grin.  “I suppose you’ve left me with little choice,” he admitted wryly.  “Very well.”

        The children reached for Belle’s hands, urging her off the side of the fountain to sit among them, and they settled in close to surround her, one little tow-headed boy climbing into her lap to listen.  It was then he decided to tell his own story more for Belle than for his audience.  “Once there was a humble spinner that lived in a village in the far reaches of the Frontlands.  The spinner was very poor, but tried to make a decent honest living for himself and his wife.  It was an arranged marriage and though they did not share a great love for one another, they were content.  Then one day the ogres came to threaten their peace.”

        The children gasped, huddling closer to Belle, the threat of ogres not so distant in their past that they had forgotten.  Belle’s brow creased and she chewed anxiously at her lower lip.  “The poor spinner was conscripted into the duke’s army and sent to the front lines to fight for his homeland.  But ogres don’t fight like mortal men, do they?”

        The children shook their heads furiously in denial and Belle did as well, hugging the little boy tighter to her chest, completely enraptured by his story.  “The spinner had never been a brave man, but he was determined to do his duty and bring honor to his family name.”  He leaned forward and lowered his voice conspiratorially.  “But soon everything would change, because the night before he was to go off into battle, he met…”

        The children leaned forward almost as one so as not to miss a word.  “…a seer.”

        “What did she tell the spinner?”

        “What did she look like?”

        “Was she scary?”

        Little Lyssa, sitting so securely on his lap, buried her face in his waistcoat in fear and he soothed his hand over her long blonde curls before continuing.  “She told the spinner that he was going to be a father, that his wife was already expecting their child, a son, but that his actions on the battlefield would leave his son fatherless.”

        “What did he do?”

        “Was she lying to the spinner?”

        “What happened?”

        Belle shushed the children and urged him to continue, scolding them gently that if they wanted to hear the story they would all have to be quiet.  “The spinner was so afraid of never seeing his wife or his son, that he injured himself so he would be sent home.  He was branded a coward and was sent off to return to his village in shame.  When he arrived home, his wife scorned him, wishing to have nothing to do with him any longer and leaving the care of his son solely on his shoulders.  He became an outcast in his village, but the spinner didn’t care.  He devoted himself to raising his son, Baelfire.”

        “Many lonely years filled with hardships passed for the spinner and his son, but they endured because they had each other.  The boy grew into a fine young man until one day right before his fourteenth birthday, the duke lowered the age of conscription for the army and the spinner was in danger of losing his son to the war.  The spinner was terrified of losing his child and decided to run with him, but they were caught that night on the road as they fled.  He would have no choice but to let Baelfire go…or so he assumed.”

        His gaze fell on Belle, her jewel-bright eyes swimming with unshed tears.  “On the road, however, he met an old beggar and invited him to share his hearth.  The beggar told the spinner that the duke held an all-powerful dark sorcerer in thrall.  He confided in the spinner how easily it would be to wrest power away from the duke and claim it for himself.  Then he would be able to have the sorcerer end the ogre war and bring peace to the land.  The spinner was intrigued.  If he could have that power, his Baelfire would never have to go to war, he would be safe once again.”

        He twisted the story so no one would know about the dagger.  Later he would tell his Belle, but for now he would keep that knowledge to himself.  “The spinner was terrified to meet with the Dark Sorcerer.  He was the new master of the creature and had no idea how to be such.  The sorcerer goaded him into taking his life and claiming the power for his own.  The spinner became the new Dark One, master of nearly unlimited power, a power that he wished to use for good.  And at first, he did.  He ended the ogre war and saved his son.  He brought home all the children that had been forced into conscription and returned them to their families.  But the spinner soon realized that he was under a curse.”

        Rumpelstiltskin was beginning to enjoy entertaining the children and he looked to Belle to see if she were taking to his story.  His face fell as he witnessed the tears streaming from her eyes.  “Belle, sweetheart, would you like me to stop?” he asked, passing her a handkerchief.

        Belle shook her head and dabbed at her tears.  “No.  Please continue.”

        He nodded and let himself fall into his memories once more.  “The spinner changed and it frightened Baelfire.  The man he loved as his father was no match for the beast that seemed to take root in him.  He did vile, despicable things and Baelfire wanted nothing more than to have his father back, to somehow find a way to rid him of his dark powers.  His dearest friend told him of a very powerful fairy, the blue fairy, bringer of hope to all who seek it, so he set out to seek her aid.  Baelfire pleaded with her to help him return his father to the man he’d been before he’d taken on the curse, but she claimed even her most powerful magics were incapable of such a feat.  Instead, she gifted him with a rare magic bean, a bean that would open a portal to a realm with no magic.  If he could convince his father to go with him, the Dark One would cease to be and the spinner would be an ordinary man once more.

        “Baelfire had made a deal with his father.  That if Bae could find a way to break the curse, his father would do whatever it took to do so.  When it came time to depart, when the portal was opened, the Dark One quailed in fear, afraid of losing his power and becoming the poor lame spinner he’d been before.  Baelfire was swept away, leaving his father behind…alone.  The Dark One was lost to despair of never seeing his son again.  He lost something that every mortal needs…hope.  In his despair, he became worse than Baelfire ever could have imagined.  He truly became a beast.”

        “Did he ever break the curse?”

        “Was he always doomed to be the beast?”

        “Did he find his son?”

        “I want another cookie.”

        Belle was openly weeping, waiting for the next page in the story, knowing what came next.  Rumpelstiltskin dug in Belle’s satchel and passed a handful of sweets to the children to share.  “Many years passed and the ogres threatened a small kingdom by the coast, the kingdom of Avonlea.  The dark sorcerer was summoned and claimed that, of course, he would protect the kingdom from the ogres.  But as you will learn as you grow older…all magic comes with a price.  The dark sorcerer demanded the princess as the price for his aid.

        “Our princess!”

        “Princess Belle!”

        “That’s right.  The brave princess agreed to go away with the beast to his castle and serve as his maid.  She cooked and cleaned and brought light into the castle where before there had been only darkness.  You see, the beast had been lonely and wanted companionship, someone to tease, someone to talk with, someone to share his life with and make him feel human again.  But he wasn’t expecting the fearless little princess to wedge herself so deeply into his heart and teach him to love again.  The beast was afraid and sent her away, far from his castle.  He feared that she had betrayed him and he feared that her love couldn’t be real.”

        Belle rose to her feet and moved to sit at his side on the edge of the fountain, picking up the story where he’d left off.  “But the beast realized that she really did love him, that she knew his heart to be true and wished to be with him always and he came for her.  He professed his undying love and promised that he would never send her away from him again.”

        “And they lived happily ever after?”

        “Did they?”

        “Did they?”

        Rumpelstiltskin pulled Belle close and pressed his brow to hers.  “Aye.  They’re working on it.”


	11. Chapter 11

_Journal Entry 7 th of June_

_Rumpel refuses to return my journal.  He claims it belongs to him now.  I intended it as a loan, not a gift.  He argues that it was left in his possession with no guarantee that we would ever see one another again, hence it was a parting gift.  Infuriating imp!  There are so many pages yet to be filled and I think it’s a waste that he won’t give it back.  So I must settle to begin anew in the new journal papa gave to me when I returned home from the Dark Castle.  I suppose I can be thankful that Rumpel returned my quill—which for some reason now writes in ink the same peacock blue as the feather—so that I need not worry about an ink pot.  Magic at times, has its perks._

_But enough of that.  I feel if I don’t write this down I may very well explode.  It just won’t do to have the princess of Avonlea stand in the middle of the castle courtyard and scream in frustration.  And that is exactly what I am…frustrated, angry and a myriad of other emotions.  I feel them so deeply my blood seems to hum with them.  I should be happy that my Rumpel decided to share so much of his past with me, but instead it has left me more confused than ever.  And furious!_

_Absolutely furious that he was so mistreated by his wife and by that demon harpy who used him to elevate her station in life.  It wasn’t bad enough that he and his son were abandoned by Milah.  No, she had to make certain that he never felt worthy of love before she left.  Then when he finally decided to take a chance on love again—which I know couldn’t have been easy for him—Cora had merely used him for power.  If ever I’ve felt the need to become violent, it is now.  It is no wonder that he believed so fervently that no one could ever love him.  It had been so much easier to reject me than to leave himself open to have his heart crushed once again._

        Belle tossed her quill down and lifted her tea cup to her lips, grimacing to find the brew had gone cold.  A gust of air huffed indignantly from her parted lips and her hands balled into fists in her lap as she gazed out of her bedroom window.  A tear slid slowly from the corner of her eye to trail over her flushed cheek.  “I’ll never hurt you, Rum,” she vowed.  “And I’ll be damned if I let anyone else cause you harm.”

        She blew gently on the page where her tears had spilled onto it before she picked up her quill once more and began to jot down her thoughts.

 

_I had barely been able to take that in when he began to recount the many vile and despicable acts he’d committed over the centuries in his quest to find a way to be reunited with his son.  It wasn’t his fault.  He’d let the darkness consume him as a way to bury his humanity.  It made it easier to hide from the pain and loneliness he suffered.  It didn’t make it easy to forgive some of the things he’d done to those desperate enough to call on him for help, no matter that his ultimate goal was noble.  But I love him and I will not abandon him for mistakes he made in his past.  There is goodness in him.  Even at the beginning of my time with him, I could see it.  No matter how horrible he tried to be, I could see behind the mask he wore so effectively to keep others at a distance._

_However, I think the most startling news was how he plans to finally reach the land his son escaped to.  A terrible dark curse that will rip apart the realms and bring us all to a land without magic seems to be his only recourse.  Another bad decision on his part, but he is steadfast in his resolve.  I will stand by him, of course.  But what concerns me the most is the person he’s chosen to cast his curse.  Why does it have to be Regina?  Hasn’t she proven just how evil and vicious she can be already?  If I had followed her advice about true love’s kiss when she first told me about it, things could have been so much worse for us.  As it is, Rumpel still thought I had betrayed him.  Who knows what she could do with such a powerful weapon of revenge at her disposal?_

_Rumpel has asked that I trust him to protect me from her machinations, and promised that we would be together.  What choice do I have?  Day after tomorrow I will pledge my life and my heart to him forever.  The ceremony is moot considering that my signature rests on our contract, but if it will make him happy, I will suffer through it.  I want so badly to dispense with the formality and go home…home to the Dark Castle and start our lives together as husband and wife._

_I am truly concerned about our wedding night.  Rumpel, no matter how many times I profess my love to him, is still hesitant to touch me.  I can see the fear of rejection in his eyes and it makes me want to take Milah by the hair and wipe the courtyard with her face for what she did to him.  It’s bad enough that after he recounted his past, he disappeared from the garden before I could share my feelings with him.  I know he was afraid that I would ask to break out deal and fled before I could cast him aside as so many had before.  Why does it have to be so hard for him to believe in us?_

_Now I am so furious I just want to hit something…preferably someone.  Rumpel has forbid me to suit up and return to the practice field unless he is there to spar with me.  And Brutal and Gaston are too fearful of the Dark One’s wrath to go against his wishes.  But he has been gone all afternoon and into the evening, not even returning for the evening meal.  What if he doesn’t return for me at all?  No, he will abide by the contract.  The Dark One doesn’t break deals…especially not one so personal as this. Sitting here worrying isn’t helping me at all.  I need to find some way to work out my frustrations._

Belle closed her journal and ran her hand lovingly over the blue leather cover.  For once, writing hadn’t been able to ease her troubles.  She needed to do something with her hands, something physical that she could lose herself in just as Rumpelstiltskin did with his spinning.  She rose from her writing desk and moved to her wardrobe, whipping her dressing robe from her shoulders and choosing a light serviceable gown of cotton with no sleeves.  It would keep her cool in the kitchens.  No matter how much her father objected to her spending time there, at least she’d be able to do something productive while she waited.

 

XOOOX

 

        Rumpelstiltskin sat upon the settee in Regina’s bedroom and ignored the pressure behind his eyes where a vicious headache was beginning to form.  _Prattle, prattle, prattle, blah, blah, blah.  I think the woman talks just to hear the sound of her own voice,_ he thought tiredly.  He’d left Avonlea with the express purpose of going north to purchase a box of Belle’s favorite Andrazian chocolates…a peace offering of sorts to soothe her anger over his abrupt departure.  And if Regina hadn’t persisted with her constant summons he would have ignored her completely.  He assumed her pet was elsewhere and she was feeling neglected. He didn’t have time today for one of her tantrums.  He needed to return to his Belle and learn whether or not if she still wished to marry him.

        “Snow White…little witch…revenge…take away her happy ending…” the queen continued as she paced before him, her nails clicking in a most annoying way against the beads that adorned her dress.  He pinched the bridge of his nose as the pressure behind his eyes increased and his what little patience he possessed ran thin.  He focused his gaze on her as she ceased her pacing, her hands planted firmly on her hips as she glared at him with narrowed eyes.  “Rumpelstiltskin, you haven’t heard a word I’ve said!”

        The sorcerer quirked a sardonic brow at her.  “Perhaps if you had something different to say once in a while, your majesty, it might be easier to stay awake in your presence,” he remarked dryly.

        Regina drew herself up to her full height, her teeth gnashing together.  “I want to know why you haven’t given me the curse.  I’m tired of waiting,” she hissed, her ruby lips curling into a disdainful sneer.

        Rumpelstiltskin smirked, knowing full well that the gesture would irritate her.  “It’s not ready, dearie.”

        “How can it not be ready?  You’ve only been working on it for centuries.  How much more time can you possibly need?” she shrieked in outrage.

        He could feel the dark magic surge through is veins as he met her infuriated gaze.  Oh how he would love to strike her down for her insolence, what she’d done to his relationship with Belle notwithstanding.  “It will be ready in due time.  Remember, your majesty, it is for me to decide when it is to be finished.  You will have your petty revenge against your step-daughter, fear not,” he said wearily, tired of her endless prattling.  “Now, if that is the pointlessness of your summons, I will bid you farewell.”

        “You’re angry with me, aren’t you?” she asked, her smirk transforming into a malicious smile.  “Still upset about your girl?  Really, Rumpel, you were quite foolish to think that she could love you.”

        He schooled his features into a bland mask as his anger threatened to unleash itself and strike her down.  He would rather cut out his own tongue than utter his next words, but it was necessary in order to keep the queen from plotting against his Belle…at least until he had Belle ensconced safely within the walls of the Dark Castle where he could protect her.  “She was merely a distraction.  I have no delusions of love where she is concerned.  I’m certain she’s back in her kingdom on the arm of her betrothed, happy to be rid of her role as my servant.”

        Regina’s face fell in disappointment.  She never was capable of concealing her emotions very well.  “Right,” she sneered.  “As if anyone would want her after her association with you.”  She was rather peeved that the little chit hadn’t been Rumpelstiltskin’s true love.  To have his curse broken, leaving him powerless, was a fantasy she indulged in quite often.  With the Dark One’s curse forever broken, she would be the ultimate power in the realm and she would leave him broken and bleeding at her feet mourning the loss of the one woman that dared to give him her heart.  There would be no one left to challenge her.  She would now have to begin anew in her quest to destroy her former master.

        Rumpelstiltskin shrugged as if the matter meant little, his heart screaming at the very thought of his Belle on the arm of that lumbering arrogant oaf.  He rose to his feet and circled around her stiffening frame, an infuriatingly girlish giggle bursting forth from his thin lips.  “Really, dearie, I would think that your attentions would be more focused on your failure to end Snow White than my love life.  It makes me wonder if I should be flattered.”

        “As if I care about you or some little twit of a girl,” she scoffed indifferently.

        “Perhaps instead you should concentrate on finding someone you don’t have to control to share your bed.”  His blackened claws covered his mouth briefly before another giggle trilled throughout the chamber.  “Oh, that’s right.  I forgot.  That’s the only way you can lure a man past these chamber doors.”

        In her fury, she picked up a perfume bottle from her vanity and hurled it at him.  His glee was unmistakable as he ducked, the projectile zooming harmlessly over his left shoulder to smash against the wall.  “How dare you!” she snarled at him, her eyes widening with rage.

        “I do believe I struck a nerve.”  Before he vanished in a cloud of violet smoke, his laughter hanging mockingly in the still air around her, he taunted, “See you in a month, dearie!”

 

XOOOX

 

        Belle pounded relentlessly at the bread dough spread out on the worktable before her, flour coating her arms up to her elbows as she worked out her frustrations on the innocent mixture.  She’d resorted to baking more than once at the Dark Castle when she’d been particularly angry at Rumpelstiltskin, but tonight nothing seemed to help her alleviate her anxiety.  Even Jefferson, who had followed her down to the kitchens for a cup of tea and some light conversation, hadn’t been able to tease her out of her pique.  She’d sent him off with an apology and a smile, wishing for nothing more than to be alone with her thoughts.  And alone she was in the bowels of the kitchen with nothing but the heat of the ovens to keep her company.  Already, four loaves of Rumpelstiltskin’s favorite date and nut bread lay cooling on the worktable and still she pounded away at more, unable to find comfort in the task, but unwilling to give up until she was so exhausted her dreams would not be filled with thoughts of her sorcerer.

        _What if he doesn’t come back?  No, I’m being silly.  Aren’t I?  He’s probably off on one of his deals…causing chaos._ She stopped her frantic pounding of the dough and leaned her palms against the smooth surface of the work table, bowing her head and taking a deep breath to stave off her worries.  She was tempted to press her fingers to the mark below her ear and summon him to her side, but she had always promised herself that she would only do so if she were in danger.  She needed to stop acting like such a ninny, she mentally scolded herself.  There had to be a good reason for him to have just up and poofed out of sight without a word.  _Damnit_!

        Belle glanced down at the diamond on her left hand and grimaced at the dough sticking to it.  She really should have removed it before she’d begun, but she’d been reluctant to remove it.  She’d _promised_ never to remove it and a little bread dough was unlikely to mar it.  Turning back to her task of forming the dough into loaves, she nearly missed the energy that pulsed through the stiflingly hot air; that sizzle and crackle of magic that always preceded the appearance of her imp.  She betrayed that knowledge with only a slight stiffening of her shoulders as she worked, wondering how long it would take him to make his presence known.

        Rumpelstiltskin leaned a hip against the small table next to the hearth, his slight figure cast in shadows as he watched the muscles in Belle’s back ripple beneath her soft flesh as she worked.  His stomach settled as he took her in.  He’d felt her angst and worry through the mark and was relieved to find her safe.  He wondered briefly if he’d be able to feel more of her emotions once they were married.  Would the bond they shared grow stronger over time?  Would he perhaps be able to feel her desire when he was finally able to have her beneath him in his bed?  A shiver tripped up his spine at the very thought of her in his arms.  He shifted uncomfortably and tamped down his the surge of lust.  The matter of whether or not she would still have him hung heavily between them.   

        He found a lascivious smile curling the corners of his mouth as he took in her attire and the way the thin cotton gown clung to her curves, her perspiration causing it to stick to her in places.  Her bare arms showed him a hidden strength she hadn’t possessed before her time at the Dark Castle and he realized that the hard work she’d done there had merely enhanced her supple body rather than detract from it.  His Belle was steel and strength encased in velvet and she was his.  His bright burning light that touched his very soul and he wouldn’t lose her again.  He needed her more than his next breath and he would do anything to assure that she remained with him always.

        His footsteps were silent as he moved across the stone floor to stand behind her, his hands molding to the curve of her hips as he buried his nose in the chestnut curls piled high on her crown, loose tendrils escaping to cling to the damp skin of her neck.  “A bit late to be baking, isn’t it, dearest?” he asked silkily against the shell of her ear.

        Belle flinched and pulled away from him with a small whimper of distress as the rough dragon hide of his coat poked her through the thin material of her gown.  He took her gesture as one of rejection and stepped away from her, his brow knitting in a frown.  Her hand snaked out quickly and plucked at his coat, pushing it back off his shoulders as he studied her face.  She laid the coat over the back of a chair and moved back into the circle of his arms, laying her head against his shoulder and sighing contentedly.  “I really hate that coat, Rum,” she teased gently, soothing his fears with the soft tone of her voice.  “It’s too scratchy.”

        “Is it now?” he asked, his tone losing the shrillness of the imp and growing husky as her body melded perfectly to his own lean lines.  He could feel the heat of her seeping into the very marrow of his bones and he wanted nothing more than to lose himself in her at that moment, reveling in the fact that she was his, that she wanted _him._   “You’re not angry with me?” he asked, twirling a loose curl about his long finger.

        “Do you really think I would be baking at this hour if I wasn’t?” she asked, poking him in the ribs.  She stiffened suddenly and glared up at him as a smell of something dark and acidic assailed her nose.  “You’ve been with the queen, haven’t you?” she asked accusingly, the deep blue pools of her eyes filling with hurt.

        His lips parted on a surprised gasp before snapping them closed.  “How could you possibly know that?”

        Belle turned from him to wipe the remaining flour from her hands on a cloth, grinding her teeth together to reign in her temper.  To think that she had been worried over him only to find out he’d been in the company of the very woman that had cleverly filled her mind with thoughts of how to bring him to his knees.  “I can smell her on you, Rumpelstiltskin.  It took me a good while to figure it out, but her evil lingers about you when you’ve been near her.  It almost smells of rotted fruit, pungent and unpleasant.”

        He cupped her chin in his hand, forcing her gaze up to his as he cast her a half moon grin.  “You are entirely too perceptive, m’Belle.  Yes, I was summoned by the queen,” he admitted.

        She caught her lower lips between her pearly teeth and studied him.  “Is…is um, that why you left me today?”

        He wanted nothing more than to catch her lip between his own and worry it himself, but he found the strength to restrain himself…for the time being.  “No.  I wanted to give you time to decide if you still wanted to marry me after learning about my past and what must be done in order to find my Baelfire.  I will understand if you don’t, Belle.”

        She shook her head sadly, hating that he was still so unsure of her despite her many declarations of love.  “I have little choice in the matter.  I love you and I refuse to give you up because of things you’ve done in your past.  I’m afraid you’re stuck with me, my darling,” she said simply, squealing delightedly as he hauled her against his chest and squeezed the breath out of her.

        “A fate that couldn’t make me happier,” he breathed against her lips as he took her mouth in a kiss of promise and desire and all the pent up love he longed to shower on her.  A low growl of pleasure rumbled in his chest as her tongue swept over the seam of his lips, seeking entry into the hot recesses of his mouth.  His hands clutched at her hips, desperately pressing his hardening erection against her heat, yearning for her touch.  He lifted her, setting her down on the worktable and groaning as her legs wrapped tightly about his waist and he realized how very little she wore beneath her gown.  “Belle…”

        She whimpered softly as his lips trailed over her jaw to her ear to nip gently at the lobe before his tongue darted out to lave over the mark on her neck, the sensation sending heat spiraling to the core of her being.  Her hands grasped frantically at his hair, delving into the soft locks as his fingertips brushed up her sides to cup her breasts.  She arched into his touch as his blackened nails scraped deliciously over her nipples through the fabric of her dress, lost in waves of desire for the only man who had ever been able to spark such emotion within her.  “So many nights…I dreamed of having…you touch me…like this,” she whispered, her head thrown back in pleasure, her panting breath caressing the flesh exposed by the deep vee of his shirt.

        His thrust his long fingers into her long chestnut curls, pins falling with a soft ping to the table she sat upon, pulling her head back to stare unbelievingly into her heavy lidded eyes.  He could feel the tenuous hold on his control slip as he took in the desire so evident on her lovely features.  “You dreamed of me?”

        She pressed a whisper soft kiss to the corner of his mouth and smiled against his lips.  “I may be a maiden, but I know what I want, Rumpelstiltskin.  And I’ve wanted you for such a long time.”

        His hips bucked against her, pressing so tightly into her, he could feel her pulse against him through the heavy leather constricting so uncomfortably against his erection.  “Gods, woman, you’re going to be the death of me,” he growled, taking her lips in a bruising kiss, devouring her and swallowing down her blissful moans.  He was barely aware of her fingers working frantically to unbutton his waistcoat before moving to the buttons of his shirt.

        Her skirt covered his hands as he tentatively trailed his fingertips along the outside of her thighs, his eyes searching hers, begging for her permission.  Those deep cerulean pools were filled with desire and something he never expected to see from any woman…love and trust.  She trusted him completely and the knowledge nearly brought him to his knees.  “I’m yours, Rumpel.  Don’t be afraid to touch me…please, love,” she gasped breathlessly, sliding her hands over the taut flesh of his chest and smiling as she felt him shudder at her touch, reveling in the fact that she was pleasing him just as much as he was pleasing her.

        His lips tasted the delicate skin of her collarbone, the salty sweet flavor bursting over his tongue like nectar from the gods as his hands moved to the soft flesh of her inner thighs, inching closer to her core and she keened low in her throat, putting voice to the wealth of emotions racing through her blood.  He could’ve wept as his fingers brushed against the lace covering her sex, so hot so wet, just for him.  His Belle filled his heart as well as his arms as she writhed against him.  A brief moment of sanity intruded and quelled his lust to a more bearable level as he realized that he couldn’t take her there on a filthy worktable in the depths of her father’s castle.  She deserved fine silken sheets and every comfort imaginable and he would endeavor to make certain her first time was as perfect as she was.  His brave beauty that dared to love a monster.

        He held her to him, watching her pleasure blossom over her features as he delved beneath the lace of her underpinnings and into her wet heat, her rosebud mouth formed into a perfect ‘o’ of surprise.  Slowly he was gaining control over his lust, but he would not deny himself the pleasure of watching her come apart in his arms, secure in the knowledge that she wanted this, wanted _him_.  Her hands fisted in his shirt as his thumb circled around the bundle of nerves above her opening, her teeth digging deeply into her bottom lip and her eyes closing as she keened and bucked frantically against his hand.

        He took her bloodied lip between hers, laving it with his tongue as he slipped one lone finger into her hot wet sheath, groaning as she clasped him tightly, her inner walls fluttering around him.  “Rum…Rumpel, I…I need…” she gasped, coherent thought escaping her under the onslaught of his teasing hands.

        His hand moved faster, coaxing, urging and teasing her until she was tightly strung and holding on by a mere hare’s-breadth.  “Let go, darling.  Don’t fight it,” he said, twining his hand in her hair and dragging her head back so he could nip and suckle lightly against the soft sensitive skin of her neck.  “Come apart for me, my Belle.”

        Belle’s eyes flew open to lock with his, a sharp cry tearing from her throat and her nails digging into his shoulders through the silk of his shirt.  He caught her as she collapsed boneless in his arms, her arms wrapping loosely about his waist as she fought to catch her breath and slow her heart that was beating a wild tattoo against her ribs.  He stroked her hair and rested his cheek against her crown a deep satisfied smile curled his lips.  “Are you alright?” he asked, smoothing her skirts down over her legs to preserve her innate modesty.

        “I’ve never…” she began, her voice raspy and raw from her cries.  “I love you, Rumpel.”  She pressed a kiss to his chest over his heart, content to remain in his arms indefinitely, despite the overwhelming heat of the kitchen.

        “I do love you, my Belle,” he whispered passionately against her lips as he claimed her mouth in a soft kiss.  The Dark One purred in the back of his mind pleased for once to let the spinner bask in the love he felt for his beloved.  The heat rising between them again was gently being stoked by her nails against the bare flesh of his lower back and he knew if he didn’t stop now he would find it nearly impossible to do so.

        “Oh dear Gods!  Belle!”

        Belle’s eyes widened in alarm as her father’s voice intruded upon the pleasant lassitude that plagued her limbs and she gasped as reality crashed down on her.  “Papa!” she cried, quickly pulling the trailing ends of Rumpelstiltskin’s gaping shirt together over his chest.  With a flourish of his hand he righted their clothing so she wouldn’t have to suffer further embarrassment in the face of her father’s astonishment and no doubt disapproval.

        Maurice slapped a beefy hand over his eyes and shook his head.  “You know, Belle, I suspected such.  All father’s worry over their daughter’s virtue at some point.  But I didn’t expect to WITNESS IT!”

        Rumpelstiltskin giggled and scooped Belle into his arms to brush past the king and escort his bride to be to her chambers.  “Grab a loaf of bread, love.  We can have a bit on our way to bed.”

        “Rumpel!” she shrieked, grabbing a loaf as they passed the cooling rack.  She watched her father bluster and groan as they passed him, taking exception to her imp’s turn of phrase.  “He didn’t mean it like that, Papa!” she called over Rumpelstiltskin’s shoulder.  Her imp was still giggling as they left the kitchen and turned down the corridor that led to her bed chamber.  “You are just awful.  You realize that, don’t you?”

        Rumpelstiltskin set her on her feet and broke off a piece of the bread she’d lovingly made for him with her own hands, chewing slowly to savor the flavor on his palate.  “You said it yourself, sweetheart.  Because of the betrothal contract, we’re as good as married.  Dallying down in the kitchen shouldn’t upset your father so much.”

        She twined her fingers with his and nibbled on her own piece, munching appreciatively.  “I’m looking forward to going home.  We can dally all over the castle with no one to interrupt us,” she said, her voice honey sweet in its teasing.

        “Minx,” he chided, ushering her into her room.  “Go, take your bath.”

        “I can’t wake the servants to fill my tub.  I’ll have to wait until morning,” she said, a pout tugging at her lips.  She smiled brightly as he pulled her behind the screen and filled the tub for her with a wave of her hand.

        “No more excuses.  You still have flour in your hair, love.”

        Knowing she would feel so much better, she disappeared behind the screen and quickly shed her dress.  The water was the perfect temperature as she sank into its depths, rose scented steam wafting pleasantly under her nose.  Her ears perked up as she heard him stretch out on her bed with a sigh, pleased that he wasn’t quite ready to part company just yet.

        “Rum, can I ask you something?” she asked hesitantly, unsure how he would take to her questioning him.  She knew he wasn’t going to grow used to opening up to her overnight.

        “Hmm,” he hummed in agreement, letting the stress of the day drain out of him as he buried his nose in her pillow and inhaling her scent as he listened to her splash about in the copper tub.

        “Where did you go today?  Or did you leave because Regina summoned you?  I’m not trying to pry.  I was merely curious,” she said a bit nervously.

        “I went up north to procure a gift for you, dearest.”

        The splashing ceased for a moment and he could imagine the curiosity mingled with disapproval on her face.  “You didn’t have to buy me a gift, Rumpel.  I have you; I don’t need anything else.”

        The Dark One purred once again as the spinner preened at her words.  “Even your favorite chocolates?”

        “What happened to the last box you bought?  I didn’t bring them with me,” she protested, scrubbing her itchy scalp in the rose-scented water.

        Rumpelstiltskin grimaced.  “Well, dearie, they…um…they might have met with a slight accident.”

        “What sort of ‘slight’ accident?” she asked, knowing full well that nothing Rumpelstiltskin ever did was slight.  Catastrophic, yes.  Slight, no.

        “Um…”

        “Rumpel…”

        “They might be a bit melted.”

        “Rumpel!”

        “Fine!  I may have…um…tossed them into the hearth in a fit of pique,” he mumbled under his breath.

        “What was that?” she asked, rising from the tub and wrapping a fluffy blue towel around her dripping form, amused as he tried to deflect her questions.

        “You heard me,” he grumbled, watching her whip her nightgown from the top of the screen and emerge moments later dressed for bed.  She merely smiled patiently at his evasion, pleased to know that he’d been just as affected by their separation as she’d been.

        He picked up her hairbrush and led her back into her very proper sitting room, settling her on the sofa next to him and working out the tangled coils of her hair.  He summoned the gift he’d brought her and set it in her lap, her face lighting with delight as she delved into the box and brought a chocolate to her lips, a soft moan sounding low in her throat and doing delightful things to his lower extremities.

        Thinking he’d effectively distracted her, he began to relax only to have her voice her next question.  “What did her evilness want with you today?”

        _Damn!!_   “Oh, you know Regina.  She spent the better part of an hour regaling me with her plans to bring a nasty end to Snow White.  And then she proceeded to nag me mercilessly for the curse,” he said nonchalantly, hoping that she would let him leave it at that.

        Belle set her chocolates aside on the low table that sat before the sofa and relaxed back into his arms.  “Is Snow really so deserving of Regina’s wrath?”

        Rumpelstiltskin sighed and wrapped his arms around her, reclining back against the cushions and settling in to sleep with her there on the sofa once more.  He was beginning to miss the comfort of his bed, but being there with her so snug against his side made any discomfort worthwhile.  “No, love, she isn’t.  Regina has always sought to place blame on others.  She blames the little princess for the death of her true love when in fact it was her mother that murdered him.  Her whole life has been spent seeking approval from her mother, so instead of blaming Cora it’s just easier to blame Snow.”

        “She’s horrible, Rumpel,” Belle whispered, pressing her face into the crook of his neck.

        “Regina is a necessary evil, Belle.  It won’t always be so.”  He tipped her chin up to claim her lips.  “You have nothing to fear from her, sweetheart.  She will never touch you with her evil.”

        Belle met his steady gaze with her troubled eyes. “I don’t fear the queen, Rumpel.  I fear being parted from you.”

        His arms tightened about her waist in a gesture of reassurance.  “I’ve made certain she doesn’t suspect we’re still together, m’Belle.  Before she realizes the truth, we will be wed and safely behind the wards of the Dark Castle.  Rest easy, dearest.”

        There were so many things still on her mind that she wished to discuss with him, but her eyes refused to remain open a moment longer.  She drifted off to sleep secure in his embrace, her dreams filled with her beloved imp and the promising future that awaited them.


	12. Chapter 12

Belle came awake with a startled cry, disoriented and confused, wondering over the twinge of pain that had brought her out of a sound sleep.  She blinked her eyes open and stared down at Rumpelstiltskin’s head nestled on her bosom, his arms painfully tight around her.  He was dreaming, she deduced, and from the strength with which he was holding her, it couldn’t be anything other than a nightmare.  Her right hand smoothed over his shoulders while her left petted his hair in a soothing manner, much like Mrs. Potts had done for her as a child when she’d awaken with nightmares in the wee hours.  It wasn’t often that her love would succumb to sleep, especially if he was away from the Dark Castle.  There were always those, enemies, which would take advantage of him in such a state, using the opportunity to do harm to the Dark One.  She had her suspicions, however, that he avoided sleep to avoid the nightmares that three centuries of wrong doings would curse him with.

        The muscle in his jaw twitched as though he were gnashing his teeth and his brow was furrowed in a deep frown.  “Belle! No…mine…promised!” he growled, his hot breath tickling her flesh as he burrowed deeper against her.

        Belle carded her hand through his curls, trying to wake him gently.  She didn’t need him to startle awake and dump them both onto the floor.  “Shh, Rumpel, I’m here, love.”

        “Portal…No!  Can’t leave me…promised… _my_ Belle…mine!  Can’t lose…”

        The last time she’d seen him like this, he’d been dreaming about his son.  He’d been furious with her when she’d woken him, ashamed that she’d seen him at his most vulnerable.  She could only pray that he’d be more open to her presence this time.  She shook his shoulder gently, all the while continuing to whisper soothing words of comfort in his ear.  “Rumpel, please waken up,” she pleaded, worry drawing her brows together.

        His thrashing ceased and his breathing evened out as his embrace loosened about her.  Before she could inquire if he was alright and breathe a sigh of relief, he pulled her fully beneath him and claimed her lips in a soul searing kiss.  His mouth plundered hers, claiming, branding, taking; desperate to explore every crevice.  The beast was awake, free of the confines of his nightmare.  He needed to know that she was real, that she was there with him, safe and protected within the circle of his arms.  He reveled in the taste of her, sweeter than any wine.  His hands roamed over her sides, her stomach and over the curve of her hip, drawing a sharp hiss from her as his blackened nails pierced the silk of her gown and met her flesh.

        She had never seen him like this before, wild in his passion without thought to the consequences of his actions and it merely enflamed her all the more.  But they were not alone.  They were in her father’s castle where any number of servants or guards…and gods forbid, her father…could simply walk in on them.  Her father’s appearance in the kitchens last night moments after Rumpelstiltskin had shown her the greatest pleasure of her existence was horrifying enough.  She didn’t want anyone else to bear witness to a tryst with her soon to be husband.  She whimpered slightly as his lips left hers to trail along the sensitive flesh of her throat, nipping, suckling and biting at her pulse point.  He wasn’t making it easy for her to deny him when she wanted nothing more than to have him bury himself within her and quench the fire he’d ignited in her belly.

        “R-Rumpel…” she breathed, her voice barely a whisper as she clutched him to her.  Somewhere in her mind with her last coherent thought screamed that she should be pushing him away.

        He wrapped his arms around her hips, pulling her against the bulge of his erection straining painfully against the laces of his leathers and a deep growl of pleasure rumbled in his chest.  “ _My_ Belle, _mine_.  Say it,” he commanded.

        “Rumpelstiltskin…”

        “Say it, Belle,” he murmured, his tongue sweeping across her collarbone, his hand moving along her ribs and further still to cup her breast.  His lips returned to hers, his tongue dipping inside to duel with hers, and he swallowed down the sweet moans that erupted from her throat.

        “Yours, my love,” she gasped out, unable to deny his request, knowing that he needed an affirmation of her love for him.

        The heartfelt honesty in her tone made him draw back and he inhaled sharply as he took her in.  Her skin was flushed with a rosy hue, her cerulean eyes heavy lidded and dark with passion and her lips swollen from his kisses.  His head began to clear of the lust induced haze that had gripped him in that moment between the nightmare world and reality.

        “Oh, Belle.  Belle, I’m so sorry, love,” he said, his voice raspy from sleep as he moved off of her and sat up, putting some much needed distance between them.  “I didn’t mean to attack you like a drunken sot from the tavern.”

        Belle levered herself up onto her elbows and arched a puzzled brow at him.  “Rumpel, you didn’t attack me,” she protested, her chest heaving as she fought to get her breathing to return to normal.

        “Yes, I did,” he groaned, propping his elbows on his knees and then dropping his head into his hands.  He couldn’t meet her gaze, feeling unworthy to even gaze upon his pure precious love.  His nightmare had held him within its grip and clouded his rational thought upon waking, allowing his fear to consume him.  “I’m so sorry, Belle.”

        Belle climbed up on her knees and scooted down to the end of the sofa where he’d retreated and cupped his face in her hands.  “Look at me,” she demanded when he still wouldn’t meet her gaze.  Flashing blue met obstinate amber before she pressed her lips to his, holding him in place for her gentle kiss.  “I love you, Rumpelstiltskin.  Never doubt that,” she said earnestly.  “You did nothing wrong.”

        “Belle, I could have hurt you.  You may think otherwise, but I _am_ a monster,” he said dejectedly, his tone filled with self-loathing.

        “No!  You may be a beast at times, but you are _not_ a monster.  And I’ll thank you to stop arguing with me when I’m right,” she stated haughtily.  “You would never hurt me.  I have shared your life for a good while now, and I’ve seen you angry and enraged.  I’ve even seen you so enveloped in darkness that you would have killed given the opportunity.  Yet, you never raised a hand to do me harm and now that you’ve admitted your love for me I know that you would die rather than harm me now.”

        He stared at her, his abnormally large amber eyes filled with wonder that someone so loving as his Belle could give herself over so completely to one as dark as he.  “Why do you love me, Belle?” he asked, the words slipping between his lips before he could stop them.

        Belle chuckled softly as she moved onto his lap and pressed her brow to his, relishing the weight of his arms as they encircled her waist and drew her close to his chest.  “I love you because you fill my heart with gladness.  You fill me to the point where you’ve overflowed from my heart and caressed my soul.  I love every part of you, Rumpelstiltskin, now and always.”  She felt the tension ease from his body as she brushed her lips to his, reaffirming her promise.

        “I don’t deserve you, dear heart, but I love you so very much,” he whispered, content to hold her on his lap forever and bask in the glow of her love.  “And I am sorry for my behavior.”

        She raised her fingertips to cover his lips, stalling any further apologies or recriminations.  “There is nothing to apologize for.  Now tell me about your nightmare.”

        He sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose, a shudder passing through him.  “It was Baelfire all over again, only this time it was you I let slip into the portal.  I lost you,” he said around the lump that had formed in his throat threatening to steal his speech.  “I can’t lose you, m’Belle.  You lend me strength and focus and make me want to be better than what I have been.  I-I need you,” he admitted, forcing himself to say the words she needed to hear, words that he’d never said to another living soul.

        Her heart broke for him, the loss of a child being one of the greatest pains a person could suffer.  “Do you dream of him often then?”

        He nodded, his eyes closed tightly in remembrance.  “Enough that I don’t sleep as much as I should.  But being the Dark One, I don’t need as much as a mere mortal.”  He opened his eyes and stared at her beseechingly.  “Now that my life is so closely entwined with yours, I have one more fear to plague my dreams…the fear of losing you.”

        Her hand trailed along the rigid line of his jaw and he leaned his face into her palm, seeking her warmth and her light.  “I’m right here, Rum.  I will not leave you…ever.  Tomorrow morning I will bind myself to you in marriage and a gaggle of wily sorcerers couldn’t magic me away from you,” she teased.  “And together we will find Baelfire, Rum.  I know we will.”

        Her blind faith and acceptance of the future and the possibility of having both Belle and Baelfire in his life, having his family whole and together lightened his mood considerably.  “I’m going to hold you to that deal, dearest.”

        “And no one breaks deals with you.”  She squealed when he found a rather ticklish spot just above her left hip, her laughter ringing out in the room and the corridor beyond. Belle was still laughing when Penelope entered her sitting room moments later with her morning tea.

        “Good morning, highness, milord,” Penelope greeted, dropping into a curtsey as she went about setting the tea service on the low table before the sofa and preparing her mistress a cup. 

        Rumpelstiltskin wrinkled his nose as Belle prepared his cup of tea and handed it to him.  “Dearie, this isn’t your tea blend.  What’s in it?”

        Belle sighed in pleasure as the first sip touched her palate.  “Mmm.  It’s a blend of cloves, cinnamon, anise hyssop and vanilla bean.  It will go well with the bread I made for you last night,” she replied, digging into the little basket beside the teapot and placing a slice of Rumpelstiltskin’s favorite date and nut bread on a plate.

        “But I’m partial to the chamomile blend,” he said sulkily, staring uncertainly down into his cup.

        Penelope giggled lightly behind her hand as she left them, moving into Belle’s bedchamber to lay out her clothes for the day, calling over her shoulder, “Highness, you don’t have much time this morning.  Your wedding guests have already begun to arrive.”

        Belle grinned and hurried through her tea and light repast, enjoying the quiet moment with her betrothed and his unwillingness to try new things.  When they were done, she sent him off to the commons for a bath with a kiss that left them both breathless and the promise to meet outside the Great Hall in an hour.

 

XOOOX

 

          Being the Dark One with a reputation for being a vile, maniacal monster had its advantages.  One being that he could banish servants with a mere crook of his brow, which he did upon entering the vast bathing chamber.  He wasn’t some pampered noble who couldn’t wash himself.  He was Rumpelstiltskin, former spinner from a poor village who was lucky to have a bath once a week in the stream that ran through the valley where he lived.  He desperately missed the opulent bathing chamber in the Dark Castle that adjoined the master suite with its sunken marble tub and all the amenities he might desire at his disposal.  Of course, he was able to partake of much of the same here in Avonlea, but Maurice’s castle lacked one thing he valued above all else…privacy.  It had taken him time to adjust to Belle’s presence in the Dark Castle, but he’d never had to worry about her walking in on him while he was at his bath.  Here was entirely different and somewhat unsettling, he thought, stripping out of his clothes and walking into the sunken pool large enough to accommodate at least five others.

        He looked forward to introducing Belle to his bathing chamber and had already had many a fantasy about her joining him in the bath, her skin glistening in the candlelight, her eyes dark and heavy lidded with desire, water droplets running in rivulets along her body.  He quickly stamped that thought out as he felt himself harden uncomfortably.  Or better yet, he could have her join him beneath the bowels of the castle in the hot springs where he’d once caught her bathing, thinking she’d had privacy and that he’d never think to look for her there.  One of these days he’d have to tell her that little confidence just to see what her reaction would be. _One more day,_ he told himself.  _One more day and we will be man and wife.  One more day before I can take her home and have her beneath me, a writhing quivering mass of nerves… Holy flaming fairies!_ He groaned and raked a hand through his wet hair.  “I’m never going to survive this.”

        He dunked his head beneath the water to rinse the soap from his hair and jumped back, startled when he came up for air to find Jefferson sitting beside the pool, dressed in a fluffy white robe, his bare feet dangling in the water.  “What aren’t you going to survive?” Jefferson asked with a smirk.

        “Hatter!  Remove your feet from my bathwater,” he growled through clenched teeth.  He wasn’t in the mood for the man’s teasing this morning.  He was rather more inclined to be done with his bath so he could return to his beloved.

        Jefferson frowned, his sharp gray eyes studying his friend.  “Well aren’t you in a lovely mood this morning,” he commented.  “Please don’t tell me you’ve screwed things up with your charming little princess again.”

        Rumpelstiltskin glared at him, his eyes darkening to a threatening bronze.  “No, I haven’t _screwed_ things up with my Belle.”

        “Then what has you so grumpy this morning?” he asked pleasantly, refusing to back down in the face of the imp’s irritation.  He considered him a close friend and was rather used to the Dark One’s moods by now.  He didn’t get to the exalted position of friend by cowering in the corner, bruised by his ever changing dark moods an acerbic tongue.

        Rumpelstiltskin sighed and relaxed back against the side of the pool.

“I’m wishing I hadn’t given her an entire three days to get her affairs in order and to plan a little impromptu wedding.  I should have snatched her up and whisked her back to the Dark Castle where she belongs and found a cleric along the way home to marry us.”

        “Well it’s not like she’s going to leave you standing at the altar, Rum.  She’s positively smitten with you,” he said, grinning like a madman and nodding his head vigorously.

        The sorcerer shook his head and arched a brow.  “Did your mother drop you on your head as a child?”

        “It’s very possible.  Alice sometimes wonders the same thing.”

        Rumpelstiltskin regarded his friend in silence for a moment, hesitating to ask the question weighing on his mind.  He didn’t mind having to ask for his assistance when it came to business matters, but he felt uncomfortable asking for a favor when it was so personal.  But really, if Jefferson wouldn’t do it, who did that leave.  “I need a favor.”

        Jefferson froze, staring at the mage with a blank stare, remembering what had happened so recently when he’d been asked a favor.  “Do I have a choice?”

        “Yes, you bloody well have a choice, hatter!”

        “If this has anything to do with evil queens, psychopathic temptresses or attractive witches bent on seduction to secure some relic you need, the answer is no,” he stated firmly.

        Rumpelstiltskin rolled his eyes and prayed for patience, tempted to dunk the man in the pool and see how long he could hold his breath.  “I was just wondering if you would possibly stand up for me at my wedding.”

        “I beg your pardon? What was that?” Jefferson asked, wiggling a finger in his ear.  He was certain he had misheard that request.

        “You heard me, Jefferson,” Rumpelstiltskin grumbled sourly.

        All teasing aside, Jefferson nodded solemnly, honored by the request.  “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather stand up for…friend.”

 

XOOOX

 

        Rumpelstiltskin left Jefferson in the commons, throwing open the door to see no less than seven grumbling knights grousing about being shut out and denied their morning wash.  He ignored them all and sauntered down the corridor to his room to change before joining Belle to go down to breakfast in the Great Hall.  He wasn’t looking forward to having to be in the company of Maurice’s royal court _or_ any other guests that Belle felt the need to invite to their wedding, but he would endure it for her sake.

        He stopped in the doorway between his bedchamber and sitting room, faint tendrils of magic lingering in the air.  He was still as death as he sent out feelers, searching for a threat and making him wonder who in Avonlea possessed the power to wield dark magic.  He moved to the bed where he’d laid out his clothes before heading to the commons and took off his robe leaving him in a pair of calf length cotton breeches slung low on his hips.  It was then that he spied the mirror on the dressing table in the corner.  _I should have known,_ he thought with a sneer of disgust.  One of the maids had been in to clean and left the mirror uncovered after she’d polished it to a gleaming shine.

        He steepled his fingers beneath his chin and narrowed his eyes on the mirror.  “I know you’re there, dearie.  Might as well come out and shooow yourself,” he sing-songed.  “Or were you just planning on keeping yourself hidden away to enjoy the show?”

        The surface of the mirror rippled as the queen appeared on its silvery surface, one hand clapped over her closed eyes.  “Hardly,” she seethed indignantly.  “I have no desire whatsoever to see you unclothed, Rumpel.”

        A childlike giggle trilled through the air as he crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the blush staining her cheeks.  “Really, dearie?  Sure you don’t want a peek?” he taunted.

        “No!” she cried, tightening the hand that covered her eyes.  “Where are you? I’ve been calling all morning and you haven’t answered my summons.  I even sent guards to the Dark Castle with a formal summons and they returned to tell me you weren’t at home.”

        “Last I checked, Regina, I wasn’t at your beck and call,” he huffed, picking up his emerald shirt from the bed and pulling it on.  “What is it you want now?  If you’ve just called on me to have someone to rant to about your stepdaughter, I’m afraid I have no time for it.”

        Regina peeked through her fingers to see if he had managed to finish dressing, and breathed a relieved sigh to see that he had.  Well, at least to the point of being covered in his shirt and leather breeches.  He ignored her as he pulled on a dark gold waistcoat.  “Well?”

        “Well what?” he asked, sitting down to pull on his boots.

        “Where. Are. You?” she asked slowly, tired of his games.

        “I’m taking a holiday, dear, not that it’s any of your concern.  I thought I would take a few days to relax, maybe form some new deals, perhaps even enjoy the countryside,” he said flippantly.

        Her eyes narrowed on his through the looking glass.  “You’re not the type to simply enjoy the countryside, Rumpel.  What are you up to?”

        He had to laugh at her audaciousness in questioning his motives.  “Not telling,” he said, his nose crinkling as he smirked broadly at her.  “Now can we dispense with the pleasantries and get to the point of your impromptu visit.  As I said, I’m pressed for time and have little to spare for your theatrics.”

        “Fine, don’t tell me.  I need a truth potion,” she said, finally stating the reason she had summoned him.

        “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how to brew a simple truth potion.  Regina, what did you learn from five years of lessons with me?” he asked, flourishing his hands in exasperation.

        “I remember how to brew it, I just don’t have time.  I need it now to interrogate someone,” she snapped defensively, pursing her ruby lips; a clear sign that she didn’t want to divulge any more information than necessary.  A sign that he knew all too well and it piqued his interest.

        “Do tell, dear.  Just who is this prisoner than can’t lounge in the dungeon for a week or so to give you time to brew the potion yourself?” he asked, arching a questioning brow.

        Regina pressed her lips into a thin line, debating on whether or not to divulge her secrets to her former master.  Then again, there was a chance that if she didn’t tell him, he would withhold his aid.  “I’m having trouble with that lawless miscreant, Robin Hood,” she hissed.

        Rumpelstiltskin’s teeth gnashed together at the thought of that outlaw.  He’d had his own troubles with him in the past, but he didn’t need Regina getting distracted from her revenge and have a change of heart about casting his curse.  He was certain that Regina still had no knowledge that the thief was her true love and he didn’t intend for her to find out any time soon.  He cast her a blank stare, only half listening to her prattling.

        “…but I have reason to believe that Snow is hiding out with him and his band on outlaws,” she continued.

        “And you need the potion to question your prisoner before they can escape to another kingdom out of your reach,” he concluded.  “Very well, dearie,” he agreed, summoning a vial of his strongest truth potion to him in a blink from his tower laboratory.  Thankfully, he had learned great organizational skills over the centuries and always knew where everything was in his private domain for instances such as this when it would serve him best.

        Regina wasn’t able to hide the avaricious gleam in her eyes as she reached her hand through the swirling surface of the mirror.  “I promise to put it to good use.”

        “Not so fast, your majesty,” he said with a giggle that sent cold chills down her spine.  “You’re forgetting…”

        Regina gave him a dry look and rolled her eyes.  “Yes yes yes!” she said impatiently.  “All magic comes with a price.  What do you want this time?”

        Rumpelstiltskin tapped his chin thoughtfully, purposely making her wait.  “My price is…that you will not call upon me for…at least a week.  I wish to enjoy my holiday,” he said in a snarky tone.  He placed the vial into the palm of her hand and waved her off dismissively.

        “And you won’t even tell me where you’re vacationing? Did you ever stop to think I might be in need of a change of scenery once I finally get rid of my stepdaughter?” she asked, affronted that he wouldn’t share his plans with her.

        He stared at her incredulously before a hysterical laugh escaped his lips.  “Dearie, have you been smoking the local shrubbery?  What alternate universe are you living in that you think you and I are friends and therefore share holiday plans with each other?” He was convinced that she was completely absorbed in her plotting and scheming against Snow White to believe that he’d tell her where he was.  He did _not_ need her popping in to wreck his wedding day with her machinations.

        Regina glared at him and childishly stuck her tongue out before breaking the connection, leaving him in a fit of giggles and lightening his mood.  Just to be on the safe side, to keep her from spying on him yet again, he tossed the heavy cloth back over the mirror and cast a permanent sticking charm on it.  _Let the maids try to remove it now_ , he thought with a smirk.  Although what could possibly dampen it when he was marrying his true love in the morning and moving one step closer to achieving his goals?

 

XOOOX

 

        Belle was ready to face the day when Rumpelstiltskin knocked on her door.  She’d chosen a lovely emerald green gown with an empire waist, cup sleeves, a gauzy skirt made of tulle and a vibrant gold sash that rested just beneath her bosom.  She arched a brow at him inquiringly as she took in his attire, smiling to see that they’d dressed to match.  “Must you always wear your armor, Rumpel?” she asked, sighing wistfully as she brushed a finger against his deep green coat made of dragon-hide.

        “Would you send your knights into battle without theirs?” he countered, pulling her into the circle of his arms and nipping gently at her lips.  Now that he could do so without endangering his curse, he couldn’t seem to get enough of kissing her and showering her in his affections.

        She was a bit dizzy when he pulled away and she was thankful that his arms were there to steady her.  Glancing over his shoulder, she saw Brutal, her ever-present guard, turn his head away with a faint blush staining his cheeks.  “No, of course not,” she said when she had regained her composure.  “But we aren’t going into battle.  We’re merely going to greet the court and those guests that are arriving for the ceremony tomorrow.  I didn’t invite many.”

        He knew all too well who she had invited since he’d magicked the invitations himself to save time.  “I beg to differ, sweetheart.  We are going into a nest of vipers and it’s not going to be pleasant being in a room full of nobles for hours on end.”  He stopped at the end of the corridor and placed his thumb beneath her chin, his long fingers caressing her cheek as he tilted her head up to meet his gaze.  “I _am_ trying, my Belle…for you,” he said, his voice husky and deep, the imp mysteriously absent.

        Belle smiled warmly and leaned into is palm, seeking his touch.  She could hear the sincerity in his tone and it filled her with hope for their future.  “I know you are, Rumpel, but I don’t expect you to give more than you are able.  I’m not asking you to change.”

        “Don’t you want me to be a better man?” he asked, staring down at her in wonder.

        “I want you to be the man I fell in love with, not some shoddy imitation.  I love all of you, the good man who sacrificed himself for his son as well as my mischievous imp who takes pleasure in making his deals.  I admit that I would like you to make better choices, but I just want you to be who you are.”

        He brushed his lips to hers and fought back the moisture that gathered in his eyes.  “You make me want to be the best I possibly can be. I will try not to disappoint you.  As it is, it will not be easy being my wife.  You will not be accepted.  They will say I have enchanted you or bewitched you to keep you at my side.  Are you certain you are ready for that?”

        Belle slipped her arms around his waist and tucked her head beneath his chin, reveling in his embrace.  She could feel his love engulf her and she knew she’d endure the agonies of hell if she could remain at his side.  “I am ready to be your wife.  I just want you, Rum.  Everything else be damned.”  She grinned up at him.  “I never was big on what everyone else thought of me and I’m not going to start worrying now.”

        “My brave girl, I do not deserve you,” he whispered reverently against her crown.  He took her hand once more and led her towards the Great Hall where their guests awaited, thinking that if he’d had her love all along, he wouldn’t have done so many horrible things over the years.  She was his light to chase away his darkness, a bright burning flame and he thanked the gods that he had been blessed with having her in his life, having her love to guide and strengthen him.

        “That’s up to me to decide and I choose you.  I will always choose you,” she promised.  He preened under the force of her words and if she wasn’t mistaken, she would swear he had an extra swagger to his step.

 

XOOOX

 

         A hush fell over the Great Hall of Maurice’s castle as the grand double doors opened to allow them entry and Rumpelstiltskin escorted her into the room.  He ignored the nobles present as he led her over to a small sitting area reserved for the royal family.  It was set apart from the area where the court gathered and would allow them a fair amount of privacy to enjoy tea and refreshments and the company of the king.  A shudder ran through Rumpelstiltskin as he made his way across the room, earning him a querulous glance from his betrothed.

        “What’s wrong, Rumpel?” she asked, caressing his arm through the thick dragon-hide sleeve of his coat.

        He laid his hand over hers where it rested on his arm and patted it reassuringly.  His voice was low as he leaned near so only she could hear.  “There are many avaricious souls in this room, dearest, all willing to promise their greatest treasures to make a deal with me.”

        “You can sense that?” she asked, her eyes bright with curiosity.  He had discussed many deals with her over the months she’d spent with him at the Dark Castle, but this was one aspect of his persona that he’d never shared with her before.     

        “Yes, part of my curse.  I can sense desperation all over the realm; it draws me, compels me to seek it out.  When the darkness is at its peak within me, it’s nearly unbearable for me to resist the call,” he explained.

        She slowed her steps as the neared the sitting area, wanting a few more moments with him before they greeted her father.  “Are you able to resist now?  If you need to speak with the people here, Rum, I’ll understand.

        He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips.  “I am not used to having so many in one place.  There’s always the off chance that one of them will have some ingredient to the puzzle that will lead me to Bae.”

        “Then say hello to papa and go make your deals,” she said, her lips curving into a smirk.  “I’m certain I can be away from you for a bit without expiring on the spot.”

        He smiled at her appreciatively and chucked her beneath her chin.  “Cheeky wench.  I shall have to teach you proper manners when I have you back at the Dark Castle.”

        Belle hummed her approval, her face flaming at the thought of everything he would want to teach her.  “And perhaps I might teach you something as well, my love.”

        This time when a shudder rippled through his lithe body, it had nothing to do with apprehension and everything to do with the desire she fired through his blood.  He finally led her over to her father and bowed to the king as Belle took up her seat on small divan and smoothed her skirts.  “Will you join me for tea, Rumpel?”

        “No, dearest, I need to find Jefferson.  I have need to send him on a small errand.”  He dropped a kiss to the back of her hand, his lips lingering just a moment longer than necessary.  “I won’t be long.”

        He left her there and searched the crowd for the hatter, avoiding the direct stares of the souls that seemed to call out silently to the Dark One.  Jefferson was at the long buffet table stuffing his face with a large buttery croissant.  “Hell’s bells, Rum.  I know that look and the answer is no!  Haven’t even had breakfast yet.”

        “I’m sure Alice would love to know just what you got up to while away in Narnia,” Rumpelstiltskin threatened in a dangerous tone.  “And we wouldn’t want that now would we?”

        Jefferson’s grey eyes flashed angrily as he stared the imp down.  “So you’re blackmailing me now?”

        “Call it what you will,” he said, waving his hand dismissively.  “You’ll be back in an hour.”

        “No.  And if you tell Alice I’ll tell Belle about the last time you got drunk and started weeping into your cups… _Oh, Belle, I don’t deserve you.  I never should have let you go. I can’t even make a decent cup of tea without you…_ and passing out on the dining table clutching that chipped cup to your chest,” Jefferson warned.

        “We agreed not to speak of that incident.”

        “We also agreed that Alice would never find out about what I did in Narnia,” Jefferson hissed sharply, stuffing the rest of the buttery pastry in his mouth.

        “I’ll compensate you well and I’ll give you my word never to mention Jadis again.  And if it makes you feel better, it will upset Regina’s scheming.”  With a flourish of his magical hand, he produced a gold doubloon with a jade green stone at its center and held it out to Jefferson.

        “What am I supposed to do with this?” Jefferson asked, arching a dark brow.

        “It’s quite simple really,” Rumpelstiltskin said, his impish smirk firmly back in place now that the hatter had acquiesced to his wishes.  “Turn it forward three times in your hand and it will bring you to where you need to be.  Turn it back and it will return you here.”

        Jefferson still looked skeptical as the coin glowed brilliantly in the sun shining through the high arched windows.  “And just what is it I’m supposed to be doing?”

        “There someone I need you to fetch for me from the Dark Forest.”

        “Who?  We don’t know anyone who is demented enough to take up residence there,” Jefferson protested.

        Rumpelstiltskin giggled, appreciating the hatter’s term to describe the thief that had stolen from him once upon a time.  “I didn’t say it was a friend, Jefferson.  No, I need you to fetch me a thief.  I need you to bring me Robin Hood.”


	13. Chapter 13

       Belle sipped her tea and watched Lady Beatrice finally walk away and leave her in peace, her and all three of her insipid and vain daughters, Chastity, Prudence and Hope.  Well, to be fair, Hope wasn’t all that bad.  Beatrice had been one of her mother’s ladies in waiting.  How her sweet, gentle mother had been able to stand the overbearing harpy was beyond Belle’s comprehension.  After Jeanette had died, Beatrice had snatched herself up a wealthy husband and settled in a quiet duchy in the northern part of the kingdom…and apparently kept herself rather busy.  She watched as Hope trailed along meekly behind her mother and sisters and wondered over the girl.  She kept her eyes averted and her rosebud mouth closed, almost as if she were afraid to draw attention to herself.  Hope seemed to be a lovely girl with a willowy frame, jade green eyes and flaming red hair.  It was a wonder that her face wasn’t covered in freckles, but her skin was a lovely unblemished ivory and Belle worried that the girl must be out of favor with her mother because she didn’t share her sister’s blonde and blue eyed beauty.

        Gaston plopped down on the settee in a rather oafish manner, one gained from too much time spent on the battlefield and jarred her from her musings.  He leaned over and smacked his lips soundly to her cheek in a brotherly manner and grinned roguishly.  “How are you today, Belles?”

        Maurice rolled his eyes and turned a deaf ear to two of his knights that had come seeking his council in order to scold his heir.  “Lad, you are now heir to the throne of Avonlea.  Act like it!”

        Belle hid her smile behind the rim of her teacup.  “And just where have you been, dearie?” she asked, her brow arching in query.

        Gaston’s mouth gaped open and he paused in the process of preparing his tea.  The tea spilled over the rim of the cup and onto the back of his hand, causing him to yelp and drop the cup to the rug beneath his feet.  Belle reached over and lifted his chin, effectively closing his mouth as a servant rushed forward to clean up his mess.  “Gah! You sound just like that imp you’re marrying,” he shrieked, pointing a wagging finger at her.  His eyes widened incredulously as Maurice chuckled at him.

        “Oh, give over, Gaston,” Belle chided. “Did you really expect me to spend so much time with him and his little quirks not rub off on me somehow?”  She was still grinning, the gesture alive with mischief as she poured her friend a cup of tea and handed it to him.

        Her eyes lit on her betrothed as he stood next to the terrace doors that led out into the vast rose garden conversing with Lord Hastings.  He was animated in his gestures and speech that she could practically feel his glee over the prospect of deal making.  She blushed prettily as he caught her gaze and winked.  Gaston stole her attention away from Rumpelstiltskin as he sat up slowly, his dark eyes having been captured by something on the far side of the room.

        “Who. Is. She?” he asked, entranced by the wisp of girl across the room.

        “Who, lad?” Maurice inquired, leaning closer to the knight to try to follow his gaze.

        Belle snorted, looking between the two men.  “That, my friend, is Lady Bea’s daughter, Hope.”  She took his cup of tea from him before he accidentally spilled it in his lap.  He couldn’t hope to be introduced to the girl if he had a tea stain soiling his gray trousers.

        “You know her?  Why have I never seen her before?” he asked, his voice a breathy whisper.  It wasn’t often she saw her swaggering braggart of a friend reduced to loss of speech.

        “Lady Bea and her daughters are here for the wedding.  It isn’t often that she ventures away from Hastings in order to visit the court.  But I suppose that will change now that the last of her girls are of marriageable age,” Maurice mused with a knowing smile.  He turned back to the impatient knights that sat with him and focused on the problems they’d come to him with, seeking his advice.

        Belle rose from the sofa and held out her hand to her friend.  When he didn’t take it, she smacked him lightly on the shoulder.  “Come on, Gaston, I’ll introduce you.”

        That wolfish grin that made nearly all the maidens in the kingdom swoon, blossomed on his face as he gained his feet.  He straightened his doublet and offered Belle his arm, his heart fluttering in his chest as he took in the little beauty across the room.  She looked as if she were in need of rescuing if the sad smile on her lips was any indication.  And he felt he was just the man for the job.

 

XOOOX

 

        Brutal fell into step behind Belle as she took Gaston’s arm and moved across the room, her ever present guard.  He winked at her when she glanced over her shoulder at him.  Gaston had eyes only for the Lady Hope, however.  She’d never seen her friend so taken with a woman before, not even her who he’d professed to love.  Prudence and Chastity stood together conversing with their mother, the image of perfect court ladies, but Hope seemed to shrink back away from them.  Actually she looked as though she would rather be anywhere than where she was.  Belle knew that look all too well considering she’d worn it more than her fair share at state functions and teas and the grand balls she’d been forced to attend before her infamous deal with her betrothed.

        “Lady Hope,” Belle said softly, trying not to draw the attention of the twittering ladies as she approached the girl.

        “Oh, h-highness,” Hope stammered, hoping she hadn’t been caught daydreaming again.  It was a source of contention with her mother, the formidable woman constantly scolding her daughter for having her head in the clouds.  Hope dropped into a quick curtsey, her eyes raking the knight escorting the princess from beneath her long auburn lashes.

        “Lady Hope, I would like to introduce you to my dear friend, Sir Gaston,” Belle said with a bright smile.  Gaston bowed deeply before her and reached for her hand to brush his lips over the back of her hand, causing the girl to blush prettily.  “Gaston, this is the Lady Hope, daughter of Lady Beatrice and Lord Gerald, the Countess and Earl of Hastings.”

        “Your Highness,” Lady Bea nearly shrieked with pleasure that the princess had sought out their little party.  “And Sir Gaston!”

        Gaston cocked his head to the side and prayed that his hearing would return in time.  “Ugh,” he groaned.  Brutal hid his snort behind his hand and Belle smashed her heel into Gaston’s instep to remind him of his manners.  “Lady Beatrice!” he said a bit too loudly.  Belle had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from bursting into laughter.  “How lovely to see you again,” he said, pasting a false smile on his lips.

        Lady Bea beamed happily at him, the thought of a match for one of her daughters making her eyes dance with avarice and greed.  “And surely you remember Chastity,” she said, pushing the girl forward with a hand to the small of her back.

        “Milord,” Chastity replied demurely, dropping a quick curtsey.

        “Uh…yes,” he lied.  Belle remembered him hiding from Beatrice and her daughters for a good part of the evening during the last ball her father had held before the ogres made such revelry unfeasible. “Milady.”

        “And Prudence?” she asked, nudging her other daughter forward.

        Gaston’s smile was quickly turning into a grimace as he bowed to the two ladies.  Yes they were equally beautiful with their golden blonde hair and watery blue eyes, but he felt only mild disgust when he looked at them.  They didn’t have the inner beauty that he could see in their sister.  It radiated from her and beckoned to him and these two paled next to her.

        Beatrice arched a brow as she took in her youngest daughter’s hand still clasped in Gaston’s hand.  “Hope, dear, why don’t you run along and fetch my shawl.”

        Hope offered her mother what she hoped was a respectful smile and moved to withdraw her hand from Gaston’s vise-like grip.  “Yes, mother.”

        Gaston, however, had other ideas.  He wanted to speak with the lady that had captivated him from across the room with barely a glimpse into her lovely jade green eyes and he wouldn’t settle for anything less.  “Lady Beatrice, surely you might ask Lady Prudence or Lady Chastity to fetch your shawl.  I was hoping to have a turn about the garden with Lady Hope.  I am sure you understand.”

        “I think that is a splendid idea, Gaston,” Belle chimed, shooing them off toward the doors that led into the rose garden.  “Run along now.”

        Gaston didn’t hesitate, especially when he noticed how Hope relaxed at the thought of being away from her overhearing mother and sisters.  He smiled warmly at her and tucked her hand in the crook of his arm, hope alive in his breast.

        Belle watched Beatrice and her daughters as their eyes followed the pair across the room, their eyes full of maliciousness and hate.  “Lady Bea, it is so wonderful that you have brought your family to Avonlea to attend my wedding,” Belle said, drawing the older woman’s attention away from staring daggers into her daughter’s back.  “I was so hoping to become more acquainted with Lady Hope.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen Gaston so taken with anyone before.”  Belle leaned forward in a conspiratorial manner.  “Perhaps a match could be made between the two.”

        “Uh…yes, but…ah…it might be a little early to speak of such things.  They just met after all,” Beatrice said, practically snarling in her ire.

        “I must speak to papa,” Belle gushed happily, playing it up to the old dragon.  “When you return home to Hastings, I’m certain that arrangements can be made to have Hope remain here at court.” Belle’s smile was blinding.  “Yes, I shall have papa speak to Lord Gerald immediately.  Well, I do hope you ladies enjoy this evening’s festivities.  Must be off now.”

        Belle left the women gawking behind her and mumbling about how a princess could be such a strange duck.  She managed to make it over to the sitting area she shared with her family and take a seat on the sofa before she and Brutal gave in to their laughter.

        Maurice, dozing lightly in his armchair, roused and asked, “And what has you two laughing like loons?”

        Belle’s laughter died down to a few chuckles before she answered, “Papa, Gaston is smitten with the Lady Hope.”

        “You don’t say!  I thought he’d pine after you until his dying day, my girl,” the king replied incredulously.

        “Well we were wrong,” _Thankfully,_ she added silently.  “I wish for you to speak with Lord Gerald and procure his permission to have her remain here at court when his family returns home.”

        “Since when do you take an interest in the members of the court?” Maurice asked dubiously.

        “Since I want my friend to find the same happiness I have with Rumpel.  Please, papa?” she asked sweetly, her eyes wide and pleading.  She knew he could never refuse her when she looked at him like that.

        “Very well, daughter, I will see to it immediately.  I would like to see the lad settle down and produce and heir.  You are so certain that she will make a decent consort for him should he pursue her?”

        “Papa, she’s nothing like her ghastly sisters _or_ her mother.  She’s got a lot of fire bottled up in her having to be under that old harridan’s thumb for so many years.  Bea doesn’t value her as she should,” Belle mused.  “But I _do_ think she might be the one woman who could make Gaston happy.”

        Belle sat back and scanned the Great Hall, her eyes searching for Rumpelstiltskin as her father rose to go in search of Lord Gerald.  A frown marred her delicate brow when she couldn’t locate him anywhere in the room.  Her worry didn’t last long, however, when Penelope and Brutal’s daughter, Lyssa dodged around the many lords and ladies in attendance to make her way to her father’s side.

        “Lyssa, you’re supposed to be with Mrs. Stoddard.  She’s going to worry when she can’t find you,” Brutal said, picking up his child and cradling her close to his chest.

        Lyssa sniffled and pressed her tear stained face into the crook of her father’s neck.  “But, papa, my ear hurts.  I d-don’t want to be with Mrs. Stoddard.  She’s going to make me take my medicine and it’s yucky,” she whined.

        Belle rose from her seat on the sofa and moved to Brutal’s side, running her hand over Lyssa’s soft golden locks.  “Hush, darling, it’s alright.”  To Brutal she said, “Does the medicine even work, Brutal?  This is the third earache she’s had in as many weeks.”

        “It’s what the doctor had us purchase from the apothecary, highness.  But no, it’s not very effective,” he said, trying to soothe his daughter.

        Belle glanced at the terrace doors that led out into the garden, recalling that had been the last place she’d seen her imp.  “Come, let’s go find Rumpelstiltskin.  He may be able to do something to help her.”  She just hoped he wasn’t in the middle of a deal.  She didn’t want to disturb him, but she couldn’t stand to see a child in pain either.

 

XOOOX

 

        Rumpelstiltskin sauntered out into the vast rose garden, pleased with himself.  He’d made four deals in the last two hours, though none of the nobles had anything of real value…or what he considered valuable.  He decided to barter for favors, thinking they might come in handy in the future.  To be honest, he was more concerned with keeping his eye on his little bride to be.  Even though he knew she hated court life, she presided over the nobles like a queen.  How he could ever have treated her as a servant, he didn’t know.  If he thought about it, however, had she ever really shucked her royal mantle?  A royal could adapt to being a servant much less easily than a peasant could adapt to becoming a royal.  But not his beloved.  She’d made the choice to go with him, to be his servant and she’d taken her new role with the utmost seriousness.  She’d had to deal with his ingrained nastiness and never batted her long lashes. 

        Fate was a funny thing.  Sometimes it just snuck up on you whether you wanted it to or not.  Belle’s kind and giving nature had poured over into his life and chipped away at his heart just as she’d once chipped his teacup.  She’d made him crave her company and her friendship and then finally her touch and her love until he was consumed with her.  And now he found himself going soft and it was all her fault.  He smiled wistfully, definitely not a look you would find on any previous Dark One in the course of history.  She made him want to be better than he was, but gods forbid if it should get out that the infamous Rumpelstiltskin was losing his touch.  No, he decided, it was just her proximity to him while he was deal making.  When she was in the room, he couldn’t focus on anything but her, nothing more. 

        His inner demon growled with menace.  _Pushover!  You’ve succumbed to the weakness of love, Spinner, and now your enemies will come to take her away from you and put you back on your knees.  Is that what you want?  To be on your knees in supplication again?_

He ignored the voice in his head.  He’d destroy anyone who tried to take his Belle from him.  Her love wasn’t a weakness; it was his strength.  For the first time in centuries, his head wasn’t clouded with doubt and his heart wasn’t engulfed in darkness.  She made him stronger and gave him focus.  Together they would find his Baelfire and be a family.  Then he would find a way to break his curse.  He wouldn’t need it any longer and then it would be just a simple matter of removing the ring from Belle’s finger and sharing a kiss born of true love.  Yes, their future was bright.  He just couldn’t fathom what he’d ever done in his life to deserve his precious Belle.

        Magic rippled in the air.  He could feel in deep in his bones, calling to him.  Jefferson.  He moved through the garden along the path as it drew him to the spot beneath the plum tree where Belle liked to spend time reading.  He wasn’t, however, expecting his friend to be on his knees with a dagger pressed to the sensitive flesh of his exposed neck.

        “Now is this any way to treat someone who is only trying to help you?” Rumpelstiltskin asked coldly, his voice carrying on the still air in his usual high-pitched tone.  “Let Jefferson go.”

        “Why so you can kill me where you failed before?” Robin Hood asked, his dagger nicking the hatter’s throat.  “It’s been months since the last time you tried to kill me.  Why wait until now and lure me here with assurances to offer me help that I don’t need…especially from the Dark One?”

        Rumpelstiltskin giggled, unfazed by the bandit’s threat to his friend.  It would just be a mere snap of his fingers to free the hatter before any harm could come to him.  But if it made Robin feel better to think he had the upper hand, so be it.  “Yes, as to that, I haven’t brought you here to kill you, but to warn you.”

        “And why should I listen?”

        “Because, dearie, the information I have for you just may very well save your pitiful life.”  His eyes flickered to Jefferson, trying to reassure him and at the same time taking note of the hatter’s gaze fixed on something over his left shoulder.  “Isn’t that right, princess?”

        Snow White stepped out from behind the tree that had concealed her, an arrow notched in her longbow and aimed for the center of the imp’s back.  “Everyone knows you’re not to be trusted, Rumpelstiltskin.  Why should we?”

        He didn’t even hazard a glance over his shoulder at her.  Even if by some chance her arrow would find purchase, it wouldn’t kill him.  It would hurt like hell, but it wouldn’t kill him.  Although he doubted Belle would appreciate blood all over her pristine garden path.  Might as well get to the point of this little gathering.  “Regina knows you’ve taken up with the bandit, princess.  Even now she’s using the most powerful truth potion known to man on one of your little band of thieves.  It won’t take her long to find your encampment in the Dark Forest,” he said simply, steepling his fingers together under his chin.

        Robin removed the dagger from Jefferson’s throat and shoved him none too gently away from him to sprawl at the sorcerer’s feet.  Jefferson climbed to his feet and dusted off his clothes which were thankfully none the worse for wear before moving to sit on the garden bench to watch the show.  Robin’s eyes narrowed on Rumpelstiltskin, confident that the mage wouldn’t harm him with Snow ready to fire at his back.

        “I’ll ask again…why help us?” the bandit asked.

        “Oh, I’m not helping you,” Rumpelstiltskin sing-songed.  “I’m helping her,” he said, gesturing behind him with his thumb.  With a flourish of his wrist he produced a large gold medallion, flames engraved along its surface and a large ruby carved into the shape of a dragon at its center.  “Don’t question my motives.  Simply accept the aid that is offered.”  He held the medallion on its ornate link chain out to the thief.

        “What’s that supposed to do?” Snow asked.

        “This, dearie, will allow you to come and go as you please in the Infinite Forest without getting yourselves trapped,” he explained.  “Regina wouldn’t dare follow you there and you’ll have a measure of safety for a time.”

        Rumpelstiltskin felt a prickle of unease and it had absolutely nothing to do with the pair of bandits surrounding him in the garden.  Jefferson ducked his head to hide the grin spreading across his full mouth, just before a new voice joined their little group.

        “You can drop the weapon now, my dear, or I can end you.  Your choice.”

        Rumpelstiltskin turned to glare at his betrothed and the useless lump she carted around in the guise of her bodyguard.  He closed his eyes and counted to ten, pinching the bridge of his nose as he felt the stirrings of a headache coming on.  He opened his eyes, hoping that he was imagining things.  No, it was still his Belle with a handful of Snow White’s long ebony tresses and a jewel hilted dagger to her throat.

        “Belle, dearest, do be careful with that,” he chided her gently.

        “And just what did you expect me to do, hmm?  I came in search of you to enjoy the fresh air for a spell and I find you being threatened by bandits. I would rather have you whole and fit for the ceremony tomorrow…without a gaping chest wound.” she told him before giving Snow’s hair another good yank.  This time the former princess had the good sense to release her weapon, the bow and arrow clattering on the cobbled path. She gave Snow a shove in Jefferson’s direction and she collapsed next to him on the garden bench. “What is she doing here, Rumpel?”

        “I had Jefferson bring her here,” he said, plucking the dagger from her nimble fingers and returning it to Brutal.  He tucked her against his side, wrapping his arm around her waist in a possessive manner and placing a gentle kiss to her brow, hoping that if she was within the circle of his arms she wouldn’t put herself in harm’s way…or try to kill anyone else in his defense.  He wondered if he would ever truly figure his Belle out completely.  She was a warrior at heart and would defend those she loved with her dying breath, whether they deserved her championing of them or not.  His heartfelt opinion is that he was not, but it warmed him deep down in his very bones that she would defend him.

        “Milady!  What are you doing with _him?_   I thought for certain he would have killed you when you let me escape from his dungeon,” Robin said, his eyes wide with disbelief.

        Rumpelstiltskin’s thin lips curled back over his teeth in a sneer.  “Actually, it’s her you should be thanking for saving your worthless hide.”

        Robin cast her a half moon grin and bowed low to her.  “Any chance that you might be in need of rescuing?”

        Belle snorted and arched a brow.  “I hardly think I need rescuing from my betrothed.”

        “You’re marrying _him_?” Robin asked, his mouth gaping in an unbecoming manner.

        Snow blanched.  “Um…are you sure?  Did he trick you or enchant you or…”

        Belle glared at her, her fingers itching to get her hands on Brutal’s dagger once more.  “Watch your tone, princess.  It’s not too late to have you trussed up and delivered to Regina’s doorstep,” she warned in a low tone, her eyes flashing angrily.  “I am marrying Rumpel because I love him.  I need no more reason than that.”

        Rumpelstiltskin smiled tenderly down at Belle, but his words were for Snow.  “One of the basic laws of magic, dearie.  You cannot enchant someone to fall in love with you.”

        Snow slumped against the hatter sitting next to her and closed her eyes.  “I feel as though I’ve slipped through a portal and ended up in an alternate reality.  This is just too bizarre.”

        “Tell me they’re not staying for the wedding,” Belle said dryly, causing Rumpelstiltskin to trill another giggle.

        “No, dear heart, I have a feeling Robin and Snow are anxious to return to the Dark Forest and move their camp,” he assured her.

        A whimper from the child in Brutal’s arms drew his attention and he released Belle.  “And what’s wrong with you, little love?” he asked, smoothing his green-gold hand over Lyssa’s golden tresses.  To Brutal, he asked, “Is she ill?”

        “An earache, milord,” he said respectfully. “The doctor prescribed a potion for it, but it doesn’t seem to help.”

        Rumpelstiltskin placed his hand over the little girl’s ear and called forth his healing magic as he cooed softly to her, “There now, little dearie, it will stop hurting in just a moment.”

        Snow and Robin shared a look of astonishment as the little girl wrapped her tiny arms around Rumpelstiltskin’s neck and burrowed into his chest, abandoning her father’s embrace for that of the mage.  The child accepted him without fear and made Snow look upon Rumpelstiltskin in a new light.  How could someone as dark as he was reported to be find willing acceptance from a child and the love of a woman such as Avonlea’s princess?  Belle slipped her hand into Rumpelstiltskin’s warm grasp and twined her fingers with his, preparing to return the child to her governess.

        “Brutal, see our guests to the kitchen and have Mrs. Potts prepare them something to eat before Jefferson returns them to their camp,” the sorcerer commanded, leaving them gaping after him and Belle.  He didn’t care one wit for what they thought.  They were no longer his problem…for now anyway.

 

XOOOX

 

        Belle sat on the sofa once again in the Great Hall, her feet curled up under her long skirts and her journal open in her lap as she recorded the events of the day.  Rumpelstiltskin sat next to her, his arm draped about her shoulders, his thumb brushing absently against the pale creamy texture of her skin on her upper arm.  It was difficult for him to relax amidst so many people, but at least he was putting forth the effort for her sake.  The influx of guests had died down, many of the new arrivals escorted to guest rooms to settle in and the noise level in the Great Hall had quieted to a dull roar.  Others in the court were taking advantage of an early luncheon served picnic-style on the castle grounds.  But the engaged couple had no desire to join them, preferring to spend time together in their secluded corner.  For the time being, Belle was happy that people were afraid of her betrothed, for it kept them all at a distance.

        Rumpelstiltskin pressed his lips to Belle’s temple when her quill ceased its movement on the page.  “What are you writing about, my darling?”

        Belle sighed with contentment and turned her face up to his.  “Just a few thoughts,” she answered, resting her head against his shoulder.

        “Are you going to let me read this one as well?”

        “Perhaps,” she teased.  “Maybe I will gift it to you on our first wedding anniversary.”

        He nuzzled his nose against the curls at her crown and smiled into her hair.  “So certain, are you, that we’ll survive that long?”

        Belle poked him in the ribs for his remark, earning a grunt of discomfort from him.  “Forever isn’t going to end after the first year, Rum.”

        His mood was bordering on playful as he said, “Perhaps we won’t make it to our wedding day.  You could throw me over for some handsome prince and jilt me at the altar.”

        Her mouthed flopped open in mock outrage.  “And overnight we shall all magically grow gills and go live in Atlantis with the mermaids,” she said with a laugh.

        He reached up to capture one of her curls between his fingers, reveling in its softness as he brought his lips mere inches from hers.  His voice was low and husky as his soft amber eyes focused on the temptation of her delectable rosebud mouth.  “What would you do if I kissed you senseless…right here as we sit in your father’s hall…surrounded by the court…for all to see?”

        She reached up and laid her hand on the back of his neck beneath his long hair and urged him to close the distance between them.  “I’d kiss you right back, of course,” she replied breathily as her lips met his.

        Rumpelstiltskin settled for light sipping kisses, not quite chaste, but nothing like the one’s they’d shared previously in her sitting room.  Despite his teasing, he wouldn’t allowed himself to get carried away with her on a sea of desire that was nowhere appropriate for mixed company.  Belle emitted a soft whimper that stabbed directly at his groin when she didn’t get what she wanted, but before he could either give in or push her away a soft throat clearing drew them apart.

        “Isabelle Beaumont, this is not what I expected when I received your letter.”

        Belle squealed with delight and jumped to her feet, the sight of her closest school friend bringing her untold joy.  “Abby! You came,” she said, embracing her friend.

        Abigail cast her a tight smile and disentangled herself from Belle’s embrace.  “What kind of letter is this?” she asked, thrusting the missive beneath Belle’s nose.  “I don’t hear from you in over a year, Belle, and all I get is _I need you. Please come for my wedding post haste._ It’s like you dropped off the edge of the world.”  She lowered her voice and whispered in an aside.  “And if you’re getting married, what the hell are you doing kissing the Dark One? I’d heard he’d taken you off as part of some illicit deal of his.”

        Belle glanced over her shoulder at Rumpelstiltskin, who climbed to his feet and shrugged noncommittally.  “I thought I asked you to send an _invitation_ ,” she chided mildly.

        “Do you really think she would have come if she’d received an invitation with my name so closely linked to yours?” he scoffed.

        Abigail watched their exchange with a dubious expression.  “Belle, are you saying that you’re marrying _him_?” she asked, her voice cracking on the last word.

        “Why does everyone keep saying that?” he mumbled, slipping a possessive arm about her trim waist.

        Belle huffed laughingly.  “I wonder.”

        Abigail’s eyes widened as she watched their playful banter.  “This really isn’t some odd practical joke?”

        “No, Abby.  Rumpel and I are getting married tomorrow morning,” Belle confirmed.

        “Why?” Abigail asked, still unable to wrap her head around Belle’s motives.  At the exclusive girl’s school they’d attended, Belle had always been the most analytical of all their friends.  She was smart and brave and questioned everything.  But she thought that she would at least marry someone human if not normal.

        “Because I love him, Abby and he loves me.  And before you start arguing about the Dark One being incapable of love, I will assure you that he is,” Belle insisted.  “Now will you stand up with me tomorrow, please?” she asked, her eyes pleading with her friend to stand by her in her decision.

        Abigail grinned and shook her head slightly.  “Of course I will, Belle.  I may not understand how you can bind yourself to Rumpelstiltskin of all people, but I will support you if it will make you happy.”

        Belle clasped Abigail’s hand and squeezed, happy to have her friend there to share her happiness.  “Will you take tea with us?”

        “I really should wait for father and—“  She was cut off as her name was called.  “Damn!”

        Belle shared a stunned look with her betrothed, astonished to hear such language coming from Midas’ daughter.  “What is it?”

        Abigail rolled her eyes.  Thankfully, years of good breeding kept her from stamping her foot.  “You may as well know, father has betrothed me to King George’s son.  Unfortunately, father insisted on him tagging along with us to Avonlea.”

        “There you are,” Prince James said as he reached her side.  “His Majesty was wondering where you’d gotten off to.”

        Abigail sighed and smiled pleasantly at the prince.  “James, I’d like to introduce you to my dearest friend, Belle Beaumont, Princess of Avonlea and her betrothed, Ru—“

        “Rumpelstiltskin,” the prince said, the color draining from his handsome visage.

        Rumpelstiltskin stiffened, his lips curling in a feral smile that didn’t match the anxiety in his eyes as James brushed his lips to the back of Belle’s hand.  Belle took Abigail’s hand and drew her over to the sofa and summoned a servant to bring tea and refreshments, leaving him alone with the hapless prince.  “Hello, shepherd.”

        This didn’t bode well, the imp thought.  Midas’ daughter, the shepherd turned prince and Snow White all in the castle together at the same time.  No this didn’t bode well at all.  _Holy puking fairies!!_


	14. Chapter 14

Belle and Rumpelstiltskin left Abigail and James to retire to their guest quarters to change for the dinner that had been planned that evening…one particular dinner Rumpelstiltskin wasn’t looking forward to in the least.  It was apparently a tradition in Belle’s family to serve a goose dinner to the groom to celebrate the upcoming nuptials…his very last chance to have second thoughts and back out of the wedding if it was his desire.  The sorcerer snorted.  As if he would leave his Belle standing at the altar.  She was everything he’d always dreamed of having, yet never hoping that he would.

       They were now using the respite from their guests to sneak off to the kitchens to find something to appease Rumpelstiltskin’s sweet tooth and Belle’s desire for a cup of tea.  The servants were hopping, trying to finish the last of the preparations for the wedding, the formal dinner they were to have that evening and the added influx of guests.  Belle had insisted they could wait on themselves.  They’d done so for months at the Dark Castle, she’d reasoned.

       Before they could reach the corridor leading to the vast kitchens, Rumpelstiltskin pulled her into a shadowy alcove and hauled her against his chest, his hands delving into her unbound hair to hold her still as his lips dipped to hers in a gentle kiss.  He drew away from her, a frown marring his brow when he felt her half-hearted response.  “What is it, dear heart? Are you perhaps having second thoughts?” he asked, letting his hands fall away from her to his sides.

       She was quick to reassure him, taking his hands and placing them about her waist.  “Of course not.  Don’t be absurd.”

       “It was a reasonable question,” he muttered sulkily with a sigh.

       “No it wasn’t,” she argued.

       He tilted her chin up to meet his gaze.  “What’s bothering you?”

       Belle caught her lower lip between her teeth, unsure how to answer him.  When she did, her voice was hesitant with uncertainty.  “Rumpel, the quill you gave me for the solstice celebration, do you remember?”

       “Yes?  Did you lose it?  I can get you another.”

       “No, I still have it.  I was…ah…wondering…did you enchant it to write in different colors?  The never-ending ink, I mean?”

       His brows drew together over his eyes as he tried to figure out what she was trying to tell him.  It wasn’t like her to be so evasive.  “It’s writing in different colors?”

       “Yes.”

       “And has anything else…odd…happened in the last several days?”

She lowered her gaze and fiddled with a button on his waistcoat, prompting him to ask, “Belle?  You know you don’t need to hide things from me, love.”

       Belle peeked up at him from beneath her lashes, her eyes filled with worry.  “Rumpel, earlier in the garden when Snow was threatening you…” Her voice dropped to barely more than a whisper as she hurriedly said, “Brutal’s dagger was in my hand with just a thought.  I was wishing I had a weapon and then it was just in my hand!”

       It was hard to suppress the giggle that bubbled up in his throat, but somehow he managed, instead cupping her face in his hand and kissing the tip of her nose.  Here he had thought the worst, that she was going to tell him she wanted to call off the wedding, that she had changed her mind.  The tension drained out of his body and he hugged her warmly.  “It seems you’ve picked up a bit of magic, dearest.”

       “What?!  How is that possible?” she cried incredulously, her jewel-bright eyes flashing.

       He lifted her left hand and kissed her finger where his betrothal ring sat innocently on her finger.  “This,” he said, brushing his thumb against the stone. “This is a very special diamond, Belle.  There are five stones, each imbued with magical properties.  They are purported to have once graced the crown of the all-father.  There was a diamond, an emerald, a ruby, a sapphire and an amethyst.  In a fit of temper over the misdeeds of his children, he cast them out along with his crown, the jewels scattered to the realms never to be seen again.  His children lost their mortality and spent the rest of their days searching for the stones in hope of reuniting them and gaining favor with their father once more.”

       “I don’t ever remembering hearing that story,” she said, listening intently.

       “It’s not a wide known tale, sweetheart, but as long as I’ve been around, you tend to hear things,” he said, his nose wrinkling as he grinned down at her.

       “And this is one of those? The diamond?  Jefferson said you stole it from a witch.”

       “Yes, _Jefferson_ stole it from the white witch.  I sent him to Narnia to fetch it for me.  What better stone to grace your betrothal ring?  I needed something equally powerful to enchant against the power of true love’s kiss,” he explained.  “The stone is powerful on its own, but once it was imbued with a protection spell and my own blood magic, well, it might have a few side effects.”

       “Are you saying…” she let her voice trail away, her eyes widening in horror.  “I have magic?”

       He held his thumb and forefinger close together before her ashen face.  “Perhaps just a wee bit.”

       “Gods teeth!” she hissed, poking him in the chest with a sharp fingernail.  “I’m marrying the most powerful sorcerer in the realms, Rumpelstiltskin.  I do NOT need magic of my own!”

       “Belle, this isn’t something to become upset about,” he said, trying to reason with her.  “This is a good thing.  Once we are back at the Dark Castle, I can help you control it.”

       “What if I just take the ring off?” she asked, not wanting to argue with him, but not sure how she felt about this new change in her circumstances. 

       “Belle…”

       She quickly regretted her words the moment they’d left her mouth as she watched his face fall and retreat behind his mask.  If she did, he would take it as a sign of rejection.  He would see it as a sign that she couldn’t accept this aspect of his life.  “I really don’t like this, Rumpel, but I will not remove my ring.  It may be magical and more than a little necessary to keep your curse intact, but it is also a token of your love.  It will remain on my finger.”

       He pulled her closer and buried his nose in her curls, his breath fanning the shell of her ear and sending a fresh wave of delightful gooseflesh rippling over her skin.  “I promise it will be alright, my darling Belle.  Just try to keep your anger in check for another day and…”

       “Easy for you to say!  What if Gaston says the wrong thing, or Brutal or Gods forbid…my father?  I already dread having dinner with them tonight after they’ve had several cups of mead.  What if I get angry with some untoward remark and they end up with a salad fork protruding from their rear?” she asked, scowling at her betrothed as he burst into laughter.

       “Dearest, I would give up half the gold I’ve ever spun to see that for myself.”

 

XOOOX    

 

       Belle’s eyes immediately found Snow slumped in a chair staring into the flames of the hearth as she and Rumpelstiltskin entered the busy kitchen.  Seeing the slight puckering of his love’s brow, he released her hand and sent her off in Snow’s direction as he took an empty plate and began filling it with an assortment of pastries for them to share.  Belle offered an apologetic smile at Snow as she neared her.

       “Mind if I join you?” she asked, gesturing to the seat at the table next to her.

       Snow White wiped her mouth on a linen napkin and pushed her empty bowl of soup away from her, giving a small polite smile and a shake of her head.  “No, not at all.  You’re not here to try to kill me again, are you?”

       Belle flushed a brilliant shade of scarlet and returned Snow’s smile with a sheepish one of her own.  “Yes, well, I do apologize for that, but not my motives.  I don’t take well to having someone threaten the man I love.”

       “You really _do_ love him, your highness?” Snow asked, still puzzled over the young princess and her motives for marrying the scourge of the realm.  “Do you _know_ who he is?”

       Belle’s tinkling laugh filled the room as her face lit with merriment.  “Of course I do, silly.  I am probably the one person who truly does know him.  I’ll admit it hasn’t always been easy…most times not…but I was able to see his heart where everyone else sees his tricks or his deals and his darkness,” she said, her voice giving way to the seriousness of her conviction.

       Snow propped her chin on her hand, fascinated by the young woman before her.  “So you weren’t part of one of his deals?”

       “Actually I was.  He came here nearly a year ago when my father sought his aid against the ogres that were threatening our kingdom.  He made a deal with me instead.”

       “To marry him?” Snow asked, her face curling up in disgust.  “Why would he want a wife?”

       Belle paused a moment to take a cup of tea from the tray a servant set before her on the table and used the time to drop an orange slice and two sugar cubes into the brew.  “I don’t think the thought ever entered his head.  He merely wanted a caretaker for the Dark Castle.  I think he was expecting to be a typical royal…he doesn’t have a healthy respect for them, you know…and fail at the tasks he set before me.  Perhaps he wanted to get back at those who’d wronged him in the past and thought to use me as a way to do that, but I think he was lonely.”  Belle sighed happily and sipped her tea.  “I got to see the man he is instead of the monster he portrays.”

       Snow’s eyes widened.  “But how can you just overlook what he’s done?  His deals are well known for his ruthlessness.”

       “That’s because all magic comes with a price, dearie,” Rumpelstiltskin said with an impish giggle as he came up behind Snow, startling her as he set the plate next to Belle on the table and sat down beside her.  “The price of the magic must be of equal value to that of the request.”

       Belle reached for a cherry tart from the dish before her and sighed in pleasure as she took a bite, having missed their lunch earlier.  “It is not Rumpel’s fault that the people he deals with do not read the fine print.”

       Snow studied the pair before accepting the pastry Rumpelstiltskin placed before her.  “And what is the price you will ask of me in exchange for your help eluding the queen?” she asked, picking at the dessert as her stomach roiled with trepidation.

       “That wasn’t a deal, your highness, but a little well-meaning advice.  I have my own agenda where the queen is concerned and seeing that you don’t fall into her clutches benefits us all,” he replied, stirring sugar and lemon into his tea.  “By the by, where are Jefferson and the thief?”

       Snow relaxed a bit at the sorcerer’s reassurances, feeling at ease for the first time in months.  “Jefferson asked that I remain here for a bit while he helped Robin prepare to move the camp.  Just in case Regina located it before it could be moved, he didn’t want me anywhere near to take the chance that I would be captured.  He said he would return for me in a few hours.”

       “You have sanctuary here, your highness, but I don’t think you should make your presence here a wide known fact,” Belle remarked.  “There are several guests here for our wedding that may not value your safety as we do.”

       In the matter of a quarter of an hour Belle had gone from trying to slit her throat to putting her completely at ease and Snow felt herself warm to the princess. “Thank you,” she said, grasping Belle’s hand in hers and squeezing it in a gesture of friendship.  “I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you for your kindness.”      

       “That’s simple, highness, don’t get caught,” Rumpelstiltskin replied, his giggle ending abruptly as Belle squeezed his thigh with her hot little hand.  His eyes glowed a warm amber as they met hers and she blushed prettily.  He wondered if he would always find himself acquiescing to the slightest brush of her hand or a heated look passing between them, but for now he just enjoyed the comfort of her touch.  His desire would always be for her, her happiness, her smiles, her joy, but that wouldn’t stop him from moving forward with his plans and perhaps causing a bit of mischief in the process.  “Now why don’t you have a respite while you’re waiting?”

       Belle’s eyes flared with recognition as he gave Snow directions to one of the guest rooms, but a warning squeeze to her own thigh had her holding her tongue until Snow had left the kitchen.  He settled back against his chair and sipped his tea as she rounded on him.

       “You do realize where you sent her?

       “Course I do.”

       “And I suppose you have good reason to be sending her off to Prince James’ bedchamber?” she asked, a smirk curving up the corner of her mouth.

       “Just helping her on the path to twue wuv,” he said with a grand flourish of his hand, his face twisting into an impish smile of satisfaction.

       “You’re incorrigible,” she said, unable to hold back a giggle.  “You’d better hope Abigail doesn’t catch them.”

       Rumpelstiltskin pulled her from her chair to sit upon his lap and nuzzled the tattoo so prominent on the pale ivory skin beneath her ear.  “If I’m not mistaken…”

       “…It’s been known to happen…”

       He nipped lightly at her skin for the boldness of her interruption.  “As I was saying…if I’m not mistaken, I doubt Abigail would care one way or another.  She’s still in love with her former betrothed and wouldn’t be at all disappointed to see her betrothal with King George’s son come to an end.”

       “Poor Frederick.  It wouldn’t hurt for you to be the sweet generous man I know you to be and free him from his curse,” she said, brushing the hair away from his eyes and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

       “I suppose I _could_ offer her a deal,” he said with a shrug as his hands clutched her hips and held her firmly against his growing desire.

       Belle slipped her hand into the collar of his tunic and scraped her nails against the sensitive flesh of his nape.  “Or…perhaps you could make a deal with me, my love.  You could free Sir Frederick, allow my dearest friend to find her happiness and have me at your mercy,” she purred silkily.

       “You’re learning, dearest.  Oh how you’re learning,” he said, claiming her lips and reveling in the feel of her melting against him.  He kissed her long and deep, oblivious to the giggling maids and the reproving stare of Mrs. Potts and contemplated giving into her request.  Would it really be so bad to let someone else find the same joy he shared with his beloved?  At the moment, the thought of a favor from his Belle, one that would no doubt bring him, bring them both untold pleasure, was a most fitting price to pay for breaking a curse.

 

XOOOX

 

       The smile that played on Snow’s lips was a cross between deep satisfaction and dreamy contentment as she sat on the side of the luxurious bed and pulled the brush through her long clean tresses.  It had been so long since she’d felt this clean and the soft silk robe of cornflower blue with tiny roses embroidered at the sleeves was the height of comfort.  Belle had come in on her way to change for dinner to check on her, bringing the robe and a change of clothes from her own closet, mumbling something about burning the ones Snow had discarded before her bath.  The soft buff-colored breeches and white lawn shirt would be a welcome change and would give her ease of movement in the saddle and offer a measure of comfort that her other clothes had lacked.  A emerald brocade vest and a thick black cloak lined with ermine would help protect her in the cooler months. 

       Belle was an odd girl…she’d have to be to have fallen in love with Rumpelstiltskin…but the young princess made Snow wish things were different.  She could see herself having an easy friendship with her if she wasn’t constantly on the run from her stepmother.  She replaced her brush on the dresser and glanced at the mirror before quickly tossing her cloak over the beveled glass.  She didn’t need Regina spying on her and learning her location.  It wouldn’t do to have the princess, who had been so kind to her, to have her wedding day ruined by the Evil Queen.

       Snow returned to the bed and curled up atop the burgundy coverlet, sighing deeply as her head nestled into the down pillows.  It beat the hell out of the cold forest floor and a bed of leaves and rushes with her bedroll as a pillow.  Sometimes she didn’t even have that.  She tucked her dagger beneath her hip in easy reach should she need it, a habit she’d formed when she’d first gone on the run from the queen and her forces and settled in to rest.  The hatter had promised to return for her when they had moved the camp and she should have several hours in which to rest.

       Her last thoughts were of deep blue eyes and dark blonde hair as she closed her eyes.  At the edge of sleep was the only time she would allow herself to dwell on the handsome son of King George that had stolen her heart so many months ago.  It was her fervent wish that she could expel him from her heart.  He was a prince, one betrothed to someone of his own station in an alliance of political gain.  He would never be interested in an exiled princess forced to turn bandit in order to survive.  He would never be content to give up his title for her.

 

XOOOX

 

       James scrubbed the towel he held over his freshly washed hair as he entered his bed chamber, having just come from the commons in order to dress for dinner with the Avonlea court.  He could think of at least twenty different things he’d rather be doing than being there with an unwanted fiancé in a life that he hadn’t chosen.  He had thought he was being noble and selfless when he’d taken Rumpelstiltskin up on his offer to take his dead brother’s place, but he’d instead condemned himself to a life as a courtly prince subject to the whims of a tyrant king.  The one bright spot in the entire sordid affair was the little bandit princess he’d met on the road, the bandit princess Snow White that had stolen his heart along with his valuables.  The jewels he’d gotten back.  He couldn’t say the same for his heart.

       He tossed the towel aside and ran a brush through his short hair before whipping the robe from his shoulders and retrieving a fresh pair of breeches from the wardrobe.  He chose a light blue silk shirt with a deeper blue brocade waistcoat and turned to lay them out on the bed and paused.  He could see the outline of a woman in his bed and he groaned, not prepared for another confrontation with his fiancé.  Abigail was lovely in her own right with silky blonde hair and blue eyes, but he held no attraction for her…something that was sure to become an issue on their wedding night.  But it wasn’t long golden locks spread across the down pillows, but hair black as ebony.

       The clothes fell unbidden to the floor from his frozen fingers as he moved closer to the bed and pulled back the sheer drapes, the breath catching in his throat as he took in the vision before him.  His heart fluttered in his chest as he moved, almost against his will, refusing to believe what his eyes were clearly seeing.  “Snow…”

 

XOOOX

 

       Snow’s emerald eyes flew open as a hand pressed firmly over her mouth, causing her fingers to tighten over the hilt of her dagger.  She could see nothing more than a shadowy figure looming above her in the semi-darkness of the room and panic rose in her breast.  It wasn’t the first time she’d found herself in such a situation, but she’d felt relatively safe in the castle.  She should have known better than to relax her guard.  There was no safety for her.

       “Don’t scream,” came the whisper.  Something familiar niggled at her mind as she stared up into the faint outline of the man that held her in his grasp, but she ignored it.

       She raised the dagger slowly, the man seeming more interested in searching her face for signs of her acquiescence than her hands.  She pressed the tip of her dagger to the man’s groin and was rewarded with a sharp hiss and her instant release.  “The only one screaming will be you if you don’t move aside and let me rise,” she said, adding a bit more pressure when he didn’t move.

       “First a rock and now a dagger?  Are you always armed, woman?” his silky voice asked, the whispers gone to be replaced by the melodious tone of his deep voice as he chuckled.  A match flared to life as he moved away from her and lit the candle on the bedside table.

       Her eyes widened as she took in his warm smile, a small surprised smile curving her lips.  “Charming?”

       “Yes, it’s me, Snow,” he said, returning to sit at her side on the edge of the mattress.

       She set the dagger beside her and curled her legs up beneath her, coming to rest on her knees as he took her hands in his.  “What are you trying to do, scare me to death?”

       “How do you think I felt coming in here to find you in my bed?”

       “ _Your_ bed?!”

       “Yes, Snow, my bed.  What are you even doing here in Avonlea?” he asked, his brows drawn together over his puzzled eyes.

       Snow ground her teeth together, realization dawning on her.  “Rumpelstiltskin, that tricky imp!” she fumed.  “I should have known he’d find some mischief to toss my way.”

       “What does the Dark One have to do with you being in my room?”

       “Never mind,” she said with a shake of her dark head as she moved to get up.  His hands kept her in place.  It was then that she noticed his state of undress and she felt a blush creep up her neck to stain the apples of her cheeks.  “It’s a long complicated…uh…story and now is not the time for it.  I have to go.”

       “No,” James said firmly, his tone brooking no objection.  “I have wanted to see you for so long.  Don’t leave now.”  He brushed a lock of her long hair behind her ear and smiled warmly, his fingertips caressing the smooth line of her jaw.  “Stay.”

       “You wanted…”

       “I’ve regretted leaving you there in the Dark Forest that day.  I wanted you then…just as I want you now, Snow.  You’re all I’ve been able to think of,” he said, gathering together every bit of his courage to say the words he’d professed a thousand times in his dreams.  “And now that we’ve somehow found each other, I don’t want to let you go.”

       “We can’t,” Snow said, her face scrunching in pain as she felt tears sting her eyes.  “You have obligations to your kingdom, your betrothed.  We can’t be together.”

       “Is it because you don’t care for me, Snow?  Because that is the only reason I will accept.  I would give it all up for you.  I don’t care about what my father wants or Midas.  I don’t love Abigail and I can’t imagine spending my life with a woman I can’t love.”

       Snow lowered her gaze to their joined hands, fighting against the tears, against the heartache spreading through her chest.  She wanted more than anything to tell him that she would have him, that she loved him, but she couldn’t ask him to ruin his life to be with her.  “You could learn to love her.”

       “How can I when it’s you I love, you I want to spend my life with, you that fills my heart and haunts my dreams?” he asked, slowly closing the distance between them until he could place a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth.  “Tell me you don’t care for me and I’ll let you go.”

       She couldn’t.  She was consumed by him, had been for months and she didn’t want to let him walk out of her life again.  “I can’t,” came her whispered reply before she raised her misty eyes to his, so filled with longing there was no chance of him misinterpreting what he could read so clearly in them.

       His smile was blinding in its brilliance as he crushed her to his chest, kissing her with all the pent up emotion she’d awakened in him from their first meeting.  He would never be without her again, he vowed silently.  Whatever may come, they would be together.

 

XOOOX

 

       Jefferson raised a brow at Rumpelstiltskin as the imp giggled.  They were standing at the window in the imp’s bedchamber watching Prince James and Snow White run in the direction of the stables, sticking to the shadows cast by the falling dusk.  “This is going to cause an uproar,” the hatter said, leaning further out the window to stare at the departing couple.  “Was there a point to all of this?”

       “Of course there was.  Do you know nothing about me at this stage of the game, Jefferson?  There is always method to my madness,” the sorcerer said.  With a flick of his wrist, a plain ebony handled hairbrush appeared in his palm.

       “It’s a hairbrush,” Jefferson said, stating the obvious.

       “Very observant,” Rumpelstiltskin said dryly.  “I have what I want and the two lovebirds have what they want…each other.”  He put the brush away in the pocket of his coat and continued tying his cravat as he dressed for dinner.  “And if their union happens to upset Regina’s plans, mores the better.”

       Jefferson sighed and straightened the stick pin in his own cravat.  “Well, I can’t imagine King George will be thrilled with this turn of events either.”

       “Never cared much for that pompous noble either, so it is of no concern.  He will no doubt be out for the shepherd’s blood, but I’m sure he and Snow will keep each other out of harm’s way.”  _Long enough to put the final steps into motion,_ he thought gleefully.  “Well, I’m off.”

       “Where are you going?  Dinner is in a quarter hour.”

       “I need to run a little errand.  A present for Belle as it were.”

       “Should I be worried?” Jefferson asked, a smirk on his handsome face.  The only answer he received was a tell-tale puff of purple smoke and the lingering trill of a giggle.

 

XOOOX

 

       “Where have you been?  You’ve missed the first course,” Belle snapped, relief flooding her as Rumpelstiltskin dropped into the seat next to her in the dining hall.  Maurice was glaring daggers at him for his tardiness and the worry he’d caused Belle, Brutal was caressing the hilt of his sword and Gaston…well, Gaston wasn’t paying the slightest bit of attention to them as he was completely absorbed in conversation with the Lady Hope.

       Rumpelstiltskin took her hand in his and brought it to his lips, dropping a lingering kiss to her palm.  His eyes filled with heat as he took in the blush that rose to stain her face, her pearly teeth capturing her bottom lip.  He leaned close, his warm breath fanning the shell of her ear as he whispered, “I believe you made a deal with me earlier, my Belle, which was in my best interests to fulfill post haste.”

       “Never mind that, Rumpel.  I was worried you had…um…changed your mind,” she said, lowering her gaze to her plate.

       He tilted her chin up to his and kissed her softly, sighing at her lack of faith.  “Have I ever broken my word to you?”  he asked.  She opened her mouth to tell him that yes, in fact, he had, but he held up a hand to stop her.  “Don’t answer that.  Belle, tomorrow you _will_ become my wife.  I will not change my mind, dear heart, for any reason.”

       “Then where—“

       He shushed her as the doors to the dining hall were thrown open and a knight in gold livery, one belonging to King Midas’ royal guard, strode into the room.  “Watch,” Rumpelstiltskin said, drawing her attention to what was about to unfold before them.

       Abigail’s fork clattered to her plate where she sat with her father several seats down from a transfixed Belle, her hands flying up to cover her mouth as she stared at her lost love striding across the cavernous room towards her.  Her feet moved her forward, meeting him somewhere in the middle.  He swept her into his arms as a hush fell over those assembled.  Belle twined her fingers with Rumpelstiltskin’s as he sat back in his seat and watched the scene with a smug smirk.

       “You’ve made her so happy, Rumpel,” Belle said, swiping at her own tears as she watched her dear friend reunite with her beloved. 

       Rumpelstiltskin waved a hand dismissively and eyed the portion of roasted goose breast a servant set before him with interest.  “I only care about making you happy, my Belle,” he said airily as he tucked into his food.

       “You know when this gets out, your reputation will be in tatters,” Belle teased.

       “Bite your tongue,” he growled, but the barest hint of a smile played about the corners of his mouth.

       “And it’s just so fortunate that Abigail’s betrothed is restored to her the same evening that she finds a note from James claiming that he’s running off with his true love.”

       If it were possible to blush, the imp would have flushed scarlet under her scrutinizing gaze.  “Is it?”

       “Um-hm,” she answered, smiling sweetly.  “But of course this all comes as a shock to you I suppose?”

       He popped a candied fig into his mouth and grinned devilishly.  “Everything worked out, didn’t it?”

       Belle was silent for a moment as her eyes followed Abigail and Frederick through the archway leading out into the garden before she sighed happily.  Her imp wasn’t the cold hearted monster people thought him and it warmed her heart.  She didn’t need to know his motives behind it, but was instead just happy that her friends could find happiness together.  It would have broken her heart to see Abigail marry a man she didn’t love.

       She turned to her beloved and kissed his weathered green-gold cheek.  “Thank you.”

       “You’re not angry with me?”

       “No.  Prince James is a big boy and I’m sure however George retaliates, he will rise to the task.”

       He leaned close to her, their shoulders brushing as they waited for the dessert course.  “I promise, my Belle, the things I have set in motion today will grant us blissful privacy for at least a month upon our return home to Dark Castle.  We’re going to need it in order for you to repay your debt to me.”

       Belle giggled as he nipped playfully at her ear.  “Imp!’

       “Minx!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Yeah, I know…still haven’t gotten to the bachelor party yet. I promise it’s next. I just needed to tie up a few loose ends. Did the best I could with snowing. I really hate writing them. I feel like I’ve got a toothache now. Hope you liked the chapter and will take a moment to let me know what you think. Thanks to all who’ve followed and favorited, and as always that you so much for reading and reviewing.


	15. Chapter 15

_Go_ _…_ _have a drink, she said.  It’ll be fun, she said.  It’s a tradition to go out with your future in-laws and have a drink the night before the wedding, she said._ Rumpelstiltskin snorted and tossed back the goblin-made fire whiskey in his cup.  He was most definitely NOT having fun.  Did she not know the first thing about his definition of fun?  This was a disaster in the making and if he never saw his in-laws…or their friends again…it would be too soon.  It had started out innocently enough with him being escorted to the pub in the village.  He was rather surprised that the king…both of them god’s forbid…decided to join them.  Why they hadn’t just wanted to crack open a barrel of ale right there in the castle was beyond him.  Probably because it would have been easier to sneak away from their little party.

       This evening had gone straight into the gutter the moment Belle had kissed him goodnight and been led away by the ladies Hope and Abigail with the promise that he wouldn’t be able to see her until tomorrow when she walked down the aisle.  What a load of hogwash!  And now he was supposed to partake in a bit of drunken revelry?  Indeed!  If he had to sit here much longer and listen to Maurice and Midas sing one more round of _There was a fair lassie named Lida_ he might just pull his hair out.  Apparently the sovereigns couldn’t hold their liquor for squat.  Frederick looked as if he wished he were once again a golden statue, Gaston had a moony expression on his face…no doubt pining away for his lady love…Brutal was passed out on the bench and Jefferson…well, Jefferson was being Jefferson and right now he was the sanest of the bunch.

       “Your turn,” Jefferson said, passing the cup with the dice to Rumpelstiltskin.

       “I don’t want to play anymore.  I’ve had my required drink…”

       “…or five,” the hatter intoned.

       “…and I’m ready to quit this place,” Rumpelstiltskin grumbled.

       “It’s not that bad.”

       “And if that minstrel plays that bloody song once more he’s going to find a new residence in the palace rose garden!”

       Jefferson beckoned to the serving wench to bring another round and sat back on his side of the bench to take in his friend’s foul mood.  “You should be enjoying your last night of freedom, Rum.  What’s wrong?  You’re not getting cold feet, are you?”

       A dubious smirk curved the imp’s lips as he arched a brow.  “No, hatter, I am not getting cold feet.  Why would I when tomorrow Belle will be mine, our union blessed by the gods.  No one will be able to take her from me then.  The only thing that will stop that wedding is if Belle comes to her senses and realizes she doesn’t want to marry me.”

       “Aha!” Jefferson said, dropping a coin into the barmaid’s very ample cleavage.  “Therein lies the crux of the matter.”

       “What are you talking about?”

       “You’re scared she’s going to jilt you at the altar.”

       Gaston cracked open several peanuts and popped them into his mouth and said, “No, Belle wouldn’t do that.”  He leaned over in a conspiratorial manner, having taken a liking to the milliner.  “You should have seen her when she came home.  She was a mess.  Never thought she’d stop blubbering about him.”

       Rumpelstiltskin narrowed his eyes on the knight.  “It was a misunderstanding.”

       Gaston ignored the sorcerer at his own peril.  “When she wasn’t crying, she was cleaning.  Never saw a gently bred woman of her station want to dust like that one.”

       Jefferson grinned and bit the inside of his lip to keep from laughing.  “That was nothing compared to Rum—“

       “Enough!” Rumpelstiltskin bellowed, causing the cups on the table to rattle.

       Jefferson broke the silence, unafraid of antagonizing the imp.  “Someone’s got their leathers in a twist,” he said, tossing back the remainder of his drink.

       Rumpelstiltskin shot to his feet, having finally had enough.  “Well I can’t say it’s been fun…because it hasn’t.  Jefferson, make sure Brutus gets back home to Penelope and don’t let the little one see her father in such a state.  The lot of you are going to be miserable at the festivities tomorrow and I can’t think of more deserving fellows to have Thor’s mighty hammer pounding away in their skulls.”  He turned to Maurice as the first peals of thunder sounded overhead.  “Sire, your singing voice leaves a lot to be desired, so I will thank you for the drink and wish you a good evening.”

       He pulled the hood of his cloak over his head and marched to the door, Jefferson’s laughter ringing in his ears as he set out into the night.  How could Belle have thought it would be fun for him to spend an evening with her family and their friends?  He was the Dark One.  The Dark One did NOT have a reputation for foolhardiness and ribald jest…unless he was the instigator.  The first drops of rain began to fall as he entered the castle, the thunder loud amidst the flashes of lightning. 

       It made him think of the storms that plagued the region of his home and all thoughts of his disastrous last hours fled his mind.  Belle hated storms.  His footsteps quickened as he felt her first twinges of fear shudder through her.  He could feel her fear just as acutely as if it were his own through the mark he’d left on her and he could only think of getting to her with all haste to soothe her.  He hadn’t thought that the mark would bind them together as it had when he’d put it on her.  He’d wanted only to use it as a link between them in the event she should find herself in danger, but now it was so much more.  He could feel her emotions and deep seated feelings that she had no hope of hiding from him now.

       He cursed the stairs he was forced to climb, gave up and magicked himself to the corridor where their chambers were located.  The door nearly imploded under the force of emotion that was roiling through him, his only thought that of getting to his frightened beloved.  Mrs. Potts shrieked as he stalked past her to Belle’s closed bedroom door, her protests falling on deaf ears as the handle turned easily beneath his hand and he proceeded into the darkened room.

       “Milord, you cannot go in there.  Her highness has retired for the evening.  It just isn’t proper!”

       It was as though she hadn’t even spoken as his dark amber eyes searched through the muted light of the room, only the moonlight obscured by the heavy roiling clouds of the thunderstorm offering its weakest light.  With a thought, the fire roared to life in the hearth, the brightly glowing flames helping to guide him in the direction of the soft sobs Belle emitted.  He was at her side in an instant, his long strides taking him to her where she was huddled in the corner between the wall and her wardrobe.  Mrs. Potts covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes filling with sympathy for her young mistress as Rumpelstiltskin swept Belle up into his arms and bore her over to the sofa set before the hearth.

       Mrs. Potts closed the French doors that had blown open under the weight of the howling winds and then moved to fetch a blanket from the bed.  She clucked disapprovingly as she wrapped it around Belle where she sat snugly on the imp’s lap.  “I thought she’d outgrown this fear of hers.  It seems she has become quite skilled at hiding her insecurities.”

       “Fetch a glass of spirits for your mistress, woman, and be quick about it,” he ordered, glaring at the woman he was destined to butt heads with until she obeyed.  He would make sure she told him the entire story of his Belle’s fears upon her return.

       Belle struggled half-heartedly against his unyielding embrace.  “Rumpel, go, I don’t want you to see me l-like t-this,” she protested, hiding her tear-streaked face from him.  Her teeth were chattering, her limbs stiff and frozen in her fear and she bit down hard on her lip, drawing blood as another peal of thunder shook the castle.

       “No, I’ll not leave you, dearest,” he said, settling her back in place on his lap and pulling the blanket about her in a more secure fashion.  He pressed his lips to her temple and stroked the mess of curls away from her face so he could see her better.  “Would you care to tell me what has you so frightened?  Is it the storm?”

       Belle nodded and tucked her face into the crook of his neck, her hands fisting in the lapels of his dragon hide coat.  “How did you k-know?  I-I thought you were with P-Papa,” she said, fighting to speak around the shivers that wracked her body.

       “I went, I drank, I left…thank the Gods for that,” he murmured the last to himself, praying that she wouldn’t hear.  She didn’t need to know how tedious he found her family and their idiotic traditions.  “I was on my way back to the castle when I felt your fear and came here forthwith.

       She pressed her ear hard to his shoulder in the hopes that she could drown out the sound of the storm.  “I-I’m happy I didn’t ruin your evening for you,” she said with a weak smile, trying for a bit of levity.  “How did you know?  That I needed you, I mean?”

       He arched a brow at her and pressed his face to her crown, losing himself in the floral scent of her fragrant chestnut curls. He brushed his thumb over the mark below her ear and sighed softly.  “It seems the closer we become, the stronger our bond.”

       She raised her eyes to his, frowning as she tried to wrap her head around this new information.  “You can actually feel my emotions?”

       “I can,” he admitted, lowering his eyes and twirling one of her silken tresses around his finger.  “Does this displease you?”

       “No.  I-I’m glad,” she said softly, relaxing into his embrace.  She squinched her eyes closed and bit down on her lip as the thunder seemed to grow louder.

        “How long have you been frightened of the thunder, my Belle?  And better yet, how did you manage to hide this from me for so long?” he asked incredulously.  There were many storms that had passed over the Dark Castle and its vast lands, too many for him not to have noticed her fears.

       Belle yawned and snuggled closer, the thunder seeming not so frightening now that she was safely wrapped in Rumpelstiltskin’s arms.  She knew no one was better suited to protect her from all manner of things than her mage.  “I don’t know…it seems I’ve always been afraid of the thunder.  I don’t really know why.  And it was easy to find a quiet corner in the castle to shrink into when the thunder came.  You would get lost in your spinning so often, you didn’t really pay attention to what I was doing.”

       “I assure you, dear heart, I was always aware of you,” he said passionately, squeezing her affectionately.  “I watched you far more than I wanted to.”  He brushed his lips to hers in a feather light kiss and stroked his fingertips along her cheek.  “You can’t hide yourself from me any longer, sweetheart.”

       Belle shivered, the familiar heat that sprang up between them whenever they touched coiling pleasantly through her.  “Nor do I want to.”  She curled her hand over his nape and pulled him in to her kiss, showing him just how much she meant every word.

       “Highness!” Mrs. Potts scolded as she swept back into the room, a goblet of brandy in her hand.  She handed it to Belle, taking in her furious blush and the imp’s knowing smirk. “There will be plenty of time for that _after_ you’re married.”

       Rumpelstiltskin rubbed soothing circles along Belle’s back when she sputtered after taking a sip of the fiery brew.  “Easy, dearest, small sips.”

       “It tastes like the very flames of hell!” Belle gasped, giving him an incredulous look when he urged her to drink more.

       “It will soothe you and help you sleep.”

       Belle glowered at him but did as he asked, realizing he was right when she felt warmth seep into her bones, making her languid and sleepy.  The stress from the storm had worn her down, not to mention the day’s activities and she found herself fighting against the sleep that pulled at her.  Warm and content, snuggled in her love’s embrace, slumber came swiftly.

       Rumpelstiltskin settled Belle against his chest and stared over the top of her head at the harridan that seemed to take pleasure in causing him discomfiture.  “You have something to say? Out with it,” he said shrewdly.  No use beating around the bush with the straightforward woman.

       “You have her heart.  You don’t deserve it,” Mrs. Potts said, glaring at him as her knitting needles clicked furiously.

       An impish giggled burst forth from his lips at her audacity.  “You think I don’t know that?  Do you think for the first moment I ever thought she would fall in love with me?  Love was the furthest thing from my mind when I made my deal with her.”

       The knitting needles lowered to her lap as she studied the tender expression on his face as he gazed down at the princess in his lap.  “You nearly destroyed her when you sent her away.  If you love her as you say, how could you hurt her so terribly?  Where were you when she was locked up in this room crying her eyes out for you at all hours of the day and night? Where were you when she was out there riding her horse up and down the coast, pushing that animal and herself past their limits in an effort to free her mind of its torment?  Where were you when she was out of the training field with knights four times bigger than her, stronger than her in her quest to pummel something, to hurt someone as badly as she was hurting? Answer me that if you can.”

       He was silent for a long moment.  This was someone his Belle held very deep feelings for and he knew he wouldn’t be able to just walk away without giving her an explanation.  Really, Mrs. Potts was the closest thing Belle had to a mother.  He shuddered, wondering if he would have had an even worse time of it trying to explain himself to Belle’s mother.  “Do you not know anything about me, madam?  I am not a man…I am the Dark One.  I have lived for centuries and in all that time, the only people I have ever known have always wanted something from me.  They never wanted to know me for who I was, never wanted to befriend me, never wanted to give anything to me.  It may not be how I always wanted it, but it’s what I had come to expect.  Belle is the first person who never asked me for anything outside of our deal.  Nothing but friendship, companionship and…love.  It is so easy to love her but I couldn’t bring myself to believe that she could want me, that she could love me in return.  What happened between us that caused me to drive her away was a mistake.  I thought she had conspired with my greatest foe in an effort to destroy me.”

       The woman arched a brow at him, her lips pressed into a thin line.  “And apparently you learned nothing about the girl you carted off to the mountains, I suppose.  Did she ever give you a reason to doubt that she was being anything but honest and trustworthy?  You need to learn…very quickly, Imp…that when Belle decides she cares for someone, she gives them her whole heart.  Whether it be friendship or something more, she will give her whole self.  I will not see her hurt again.”

       “Madam, are you threatening me?” he asked, genuinely amused by her.

       Mrs. Potts chuckled and resumed her knitting.  “Oh, no, _Dark One_ ,” she sneered the title.  “That wasn’t a threat…that was a promise.  You hurt my girl again and I’ve got a rolling pin with your name on it.”

       The matronly woman with her fierce pride and determination to protect her mistress wasn’t bluffing.  He could see it in her eyes as she stared him down.  He had a newfound respect for this peasant born lady full of bravado.  She meant every word and he knew she wouldn’t hesitate to carry out her threats if he ever harmed Belle.  She wasn’t afraid of him, which should have been a blow to his ego yet wasn’t.  He looked down into the face of his sleeping love, her features relaxed in sleep and brushed a stray curl over her shoulder.  “I will not hurt her, madam.  I promise you this and I never break my word.”

       “See that you don’t, imp.”

 

XOOOX

 

       Belle groaned as tiny little hammers chipped away at her head and banished the last vestiges of sleep, chasing away the pleasant dream that had held her in its thrall.  A frown pulled at her brow as she pried her eyes open, her heavy lids not wanting to cooperate.  “Rumpel?” she called softly.  She had grown accustomed over the last several days of waking in his arms and she felt hollow and empty to find herself alone in her bed.  A small whimper rose up in her throat as her insecurities washed over her.  Her room looked as it always had and for a moment her disorientation made her think that it all may well have been a dream.

       “Rumpelstiltskin!” she cried, fighting off the panic that made her chest feel heavy with dread.

       He appeared in an instant, a puff of violet smoke dissipating as his eyes searched her room briefly for any sign of danger.  His warm amber gaze fell on her, his eyes narrowed when he couldn’t find the source of her distress.  “What?  What’s wrong?” he asked, his words almost indistinguishable around the toothbrush clenched between his teeth.

       Belle’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open in surprise, never having seen her beloved in such a state of undress.  His silk shirt lay open, revealing entirely too much of his golden flesh to her eyes, a towel slung around his neck.  His feet were bare and the top laces of his snug leather pants were undone.  She lowered her eyes and bit her lip as a fresh wave of heat assaulted her cheeks.  “Um…”

       He looked down at himself and quickly grasped his lagging shirt tails, pulling them together over his chest.  If he didn’t know better, he would think the heat rising to his own face was a blush.  _The Dark One does NOT blush!_   he thought irritably.  He vanished the toothbrush back to his chambers and sat down on the edge of the bed, taking Belle’s hand in his.  “What is it, sweetheart?”

       “I woke up and…ah…you weren’t here and…”

       “…you thought it was a dream?” he asked, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze.  “I’m sorry, sweetheart.  I thought to let you rest as long as you were able this morning.”

       Belle huffed out a breath of air, the action causing a lock of hair to lift away from her brow.  “I’m being silly, aren’t I?” she asked with a sheepish grin.

       He pulled her forward into the circle of his arms, her hands immediately carding into his hair as his lips found hers for a gentle kiss.  “No, my Belle, not at all,” he replied, pressing his brow to hers.  “I hurt us both by sending you away and apparently it will take us a while to build trust between us again…trust that neither of us will leave the other.”

       The smile that lit her face brightened the entire room.  “Rumpel, we’re getting married today!” she squealed with delight.

       “Aye, love, that we are,” he said, a genuine smile, one lacking his usual impish trickery, blooming on his lips as his arms wrapped tightly about her waist.

       “That’s debatable,” a drawling voice answered from the doorway.  “There won’t be a wedding if you two can’t pry yourselves apart long enough for us to dress the bride.”

       Belle laughed as Rumpelstiltskin buried his face in the crook of her neck and groaned at the interruption.  She glanced over his shoulder as Abigail stood in the doorway, Hope at her side and Penelope standing just behind them…giggling…holding Belle’s dress draped over her arms.  “Yes, well…ah…”

       Rumpelstiltskin released her and took her hand, pressing his lips to her knuckles.  “I will see you in a few hours.  I’ll be the one pacing nervously before the altar.”

       Belle smiled, all the love in the world shining in her cerulean eyes.  “And I’ll be the one in white dragging my reluctant father down the aisle.”  She pulled him into her once more and kissed him lightly.  “I love you.”

       “I love you, dear heart,” he whispered against her lips and poofed out of her presence to leave her to prepare for the biggest day of their lives.

 

XOOOX

 

  _Journal Entry 9 th of June_

_I AM GETTING MARRIED TODAY!!!  I never thought I would be so excited to tie myself to another person.  But then, no one has ever touched my heart as Rumpel does.  I always thought I would marry someone that was forced upon me for some political union, someone who cared for naught but my title and what wealth I could bring to the union.  Now I have love and joy and happiness to look forward to in my future_ _…_ _and hopefully children._

_I really don’t think my ladies needed to scrub quite as hard as they did at my bath.  My skin feels like raw meat!!  Was that really necessary?  I was scrubbed, oiled, perfumed until I was ready to tear my hair out.  Then_ _…_ _how bloody embarrassing_ _…_ _Mrs. Potts chased Hope and Abby from the room so she could have THE TALK with me.  I was hoping a hole would open up in the carpet to swallow me!  It helped that Mrs. Potts seemed to be blushing just as badly as I was.  I read.  I know what to expect from my husband_ _…_ _or at least what I HOPE to expect from my husband.  Since yesterday morning when he woke in such an amorous mood, he’s been careful not to kiss me too deeply or touch me in a way that will escalate into anything too passionate.  I wonder if he hadn’t sent me away if he would have been able to practice such restraint._

_I don’t think for a second that he doesn’t want me in that way.  He’s more than proved it with the way he touches me, but I have to say I’m looking forward to more.  I want to know him fully, in every way possible and I won’t let his insecurities interfere with that aspect of our relationship.  It will take time for his self-doubts to fade, but I’m certain they will.  I can be quite stubborn about things and I will endeavor to make him see that I love all of him_ _…_ _the good and the bad.  I just_ _—_

 

       “Highness, put down that quill!” Mrs. Potts scolded, coming back into the room carrying a tea tray for Belle and her attendants.  “There you are, still in your knickers, writing your life away instead of dressing.”

       Belle nipped her bottom lip and stared apologetically at the woman.  “I just need to slip into my gown, Mrs. Potts.  I still have time.”

       Mrs. Potts poured tea into three cups and left the ladies to prepare them as they liked.  Hope plucked nervously at the crimson gown she wore as she daintily sipped her tea.  “Stop fidgeting, milady, you look lovely.”

       Belle had chosen the crimson gown for Hope and a gold one for Abigail to honor her sorcerer’s colors.  “You do, Hope.  Are you not pleased with your gown?”  Belle asked, hiding a secret smile behind the rim of her cup.  “I’m certain Gaston won’t be able to take his eyes off of you.”

       Hope blushed prettily.  “I’m just a bit anxious over what my mother might have to say about the color.”

       Belle’s ire rose at the thought of Lady Beatrice.  “Lady Bea can just…”

       “Highness!” Mrs. Potts scolded.

       “…er…just keep her remarks to herself,” Belle said, amending what she really wanted to say about the old harridan.  “You are now part of the court by request of the king.  She wouldn’t dare insult you.”

       Mrs. Potts rushed the girls through their tea time and gave Belle’s hair one more onceover before nodding in approval.  Her long chestnut curls had been formed into a mass of ringlets at her crown with several stray tendrils left to frame her lovely face and the effect was offset by a cluster of double delight roses and a gold ribbon.  “Why did you choose these roses, highness?  I’m certain your father had some pure white roses in the garden.”

       Belle turned her head this way and that, surveying the beautiful white roses with their crimson tips.  “These are my favorite.”

       Abigail smiled at her in the mirror.  “They are indeed beautiful,” she agreed.

       “I wanted something to symbolize us both.  White roses signify purity,” she said, blushing slightly.  “And red roses signify passionate love.  These represent both.  I thought they would be perfect and they just happen to match the band beneath the bodice of my dress.”

       Belle stepped into the dress, a beautiful concoction of tulle and silk with an empire waist and cup sleeves.  The two inch band beneath the beaded bodice was crimson with gold trim, something she’d insisted upon to add a splash of color to offset the pure white of the gown.  The girls breathed a dreamy smile when Belle was finally buttoned into her gown and stood ready to slip into her satin slippers.

       Mrs. Potts sniffled into a lace handkerchief as she gazed at her princess.  “I wish your mother could see you, dear.”

       Belle kissed her on the cheek and smiled.  “I do as well.  I think she would have liked Rumpel.  She would have found him charming and witty.”

       “Oh,” Hope exclaimed suddenly.  “Do you have something borrowed and blue?  Something new and old?  Traditions must be observed, you know?”

       Abigail retrieved a lacy blue handkerchief from her sleeve and held it out to Belle.  “Here’s your something blue.”

       “And the dress can be my something new,” Belle said, smoothing her hand over her skirt.

       Mrs. Potts left the room and returned moments later with a jewel case of deep blue velvet, opening it to reveal a choker with three strands of pearls to adorn Belle’s ivory throat.  “I think this will be perfect, dear.  It belonged to your mother and can be counted as something old and something borrowed.”

       “Don’t cry, highness!” Hope warned, thrusting forward another handkerchief to catch Belle’s tears.  “You’ll smear your makeup.”

       Belle touched the pearl choker reverently, the thought of having a little piece of her mother with her on such a special day making her heart flutter painfully in her chest.  Mrs. Potts clasped it about her neck and offered a watery smile.

       “Only one more thing,” Abigail said, pulling a coin from the small reticule she had tied about her wrist.  “A sixpence for your shoe.”

 

XOOOX

 

       “Your cravat is crooked.”

       Rumpelstiltskin’s glare was reminiscent of a thundercloud as he looked over at the hatter lounging against the doorframe of the imp’s bedchamber.  “And I suppose it’s supposed to be perfect when I can’t even look in the mirror to see what I’m doing, is it?!”  How was he supposed to use a mirror when there was every chance that Regina was lurking about trying to spy on him and glean some detail of what he was up to?  He wouldn’t take the chance of her ruining Belle’s wedding day.  He’d have to kill the queen if she dared pull such a stunt.

       “Oooh, nervous are we?  Just a wee bit?” Jefferson remarked with a teasing smile.  He pushed himself away from the doorjamb and moved to stand before his shorter friend, brushing the imp’s shaking hands and repairing the damage his nerves had caused to the snowy white cravat about his throat.  He stepped back and nodded in approval at Rumpelstiltskin’s appearance.  Black knee boots, black leather breeches…Belle had insisted for some reason…white silk shirt, snowy white cravat, crimson and gold waistcoat and a white frock coat.  “I never thought I’d see you wearing white.  And it doesn’t even clash too badly with the green gold skin.”

       “Hatter…” the imp said warningly.  Then his face fell.  “I look presentable, don’t I?”

       Jefferson had to bite his lip to keep from laughing at the usual confident sorcerer.  “Belle is going to be more than pleased with your appearance.  Stop worrying, Rum, the girl adores you.”

       “What if she comes to her senses and calls the whole thing off?” Rumpelstiltskin asked in a quiet tone.  He concentrated his gaze on Jefferson’s gold frock coat and crimson waistcoat so he didn’t have to see pity in his friend’s grey eyes.

       “Wild horses, thieving bandits and the castle burning to ash couldn’t keep Belle from marrying you today, Rumpelstiltskin,” Gaston said as he entered the room carrying a small box he’d just received from Mrs. Potts.  He handed Jefferson a double delight rose and watched as he pinned it to the lapel of Rumpelstiltskin’s white frock coat.  He had two others, one for himself and one for the hatter.

       Gaston would be escorting Lady Hope today and was dressed similarly to Jefferson with the exception that his coat was crimson with a gold waistcoat.  Belle was a stickler for matching colors.

       “See, Rum, nothing to worry about.  In less than an hour, you’ll be standing up in front of the entire court pledging your life to the girl of your dreams,” Jefferson said, waggling his eyebrows.

       Rumpelstiltskin pulled at the cravat around his neck, the cloth suddenly feeling a bit too tight as a litany of _what ifs_ galloped through his mind.  “What in seven hells could have possessed me to agree to this?  I could have whisked her back to the Dark Castle and found a cleric to marry us on the way,” he scoffed.  “Why would I ever agree to all this pomp and ceremony?  I’m a bloody fool!”

       “No,” Jefferson said, ushering him out the door so they could make their way to the great hall that had been transformed into the venue for their wedding, the chapel not quite large enough to hold the court and their guests.  “You aren’t the Dark One today.  You are simply a man in love who wishes to please his lady.”

       “You are doing her a service by sharing this day with her family and her kingdom,” Gaston said regally. 

       Jefferson chuckled at the imp’s disgruntled expression.  “Come on, it won’t be that bad.  It’s a simple wedding…what could go wrong?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well, I hoped you lot enjoyed it. Next is the wedding! Yay! Finally! Sorry I made you all wait so long. Hope the chapter made up for it. Busy busy busy! Will try to have the next chappie up soon. Love you all so much for supporting me by following (holy crow…100 follows) and favoriting and all the lovely reviews! You guys are the very best. I can’t wait to hear your thoughts on this chapter.
> 
> Kortzie, I had to get this chapter out for you so you could read it before you left on your trip. I’m goin to miss you so very much and can’t wait till you get back. Love you, daughter! <3


	16. Chapter 16

       Maurice clutched the jewelry case tightly in both hands as he entered the antechamber where his only daughter awaited him, his job today, to walk her down the aisle and give her hand to the man…Dark One…imp…oh hell!...in holy matrimony.  He was still uncertain the sorcerer could make her happy or refrain from hurting her again, but he had to trust her judgment.  She’d always been able to see the goodness where others saw none and for her to remain steadfast in her assurances that there was a good and honorable man beneath the Dark One’s outer façade…well, he would just have to take her word for it.

       His watery blue eyes misted over when he saw her, standing there in the middle of the chamber in all her finery, surrounded by her attendants and maids.  “Daughter,” he breathed, sniffling a little.  “You look like an angel; so like your mother.”

       “Oh, papa, don’t cry,” she said, feeling her own eyes well with tears.  “If you cry, I’ll start crying and it will make Rum testy if I arrive at the altar with red rimmed eyes.”

       Maurice snorted a laugh and kissed her cheek.  His fingers brushed over the pearl choker she wore and he smiled.  “Your mother wore those the day she married me, my girl.  I’m happy to see you wearing them as well on your own wedding day.”

       Belle returned his smile and hugged him tightly.  “So am I.”

       He cleared his throat and glanced at the other occupants in the room, but they had moved a discreet distance away so as not to interrupt his time with his daughter.  “I…ah…I have something else I know Jeannette would have wanted you to have today.”

       She looked down at the box he held out to her, a puzzled frown on her brow and bit her lip to stem the flow of tears that threatened more fiercely than ever as he lifted the lid to reveal her mother’s tiara.  It was the one he’d given her to wear on their wedding day when she became his consort.  It was simple, hammered gold encrusted with rubies and diamonds, elegant and not ostentatious in the least.  It was perfect.

       “Papa, it…it’s perfect, thank you,” she stammered, overwrought with emotion.  “Will you help me?” she asked, lifting it from the velvet box.

       He set the box aside and took it from her, settling it amongst her chestnut curls and then admiring the effect and the way the candlelight reflected upon it.  “My little princess.”

Abigail peered out into the Great Hall, the first strains of Pachelbel's Canon in D trilling through the room.  “It’s time, Belle.  And your sorcerer is looking a bit nervous, so I’d make haste if I were you,” she said with a chuckle.

           Penelope handed Abigail and Hope their modest bouquets and straightened the trains of their gowns before knocking softly on the double doors leading into the Great Hall that had been transformed into a wedding chapel.  The doors opened slowly, Brutal and Magnus on either side, holding them open.

       Hope trembled, her nervousness clearly apparent as she stood frozen in the open doorway, the eyes of more than a hundred guests trained on her.  Abigail leaned forward and whispered, “Relax, you’ll be fine.  Look at your beau up there.  Concentrate on him and you’ll forget anyone else is in the room.” The tension in her body eased away as she met Gaston’s tender gaze and she moved forward down the aisle without hesitation.

       Belle giggled softly as she watched her best friend stare openly at the tall redheaded girl, tenderness and the first bloom of love in his eyes.  “I might be returning to Avonlea sooner than I thought,” she said to her father as she took his arm and waited for Abigail to make her trek down the aisle as her maid of honor.

       “Why do you say that?” the king asked, a befuddled frown upon his noble brow.

       Belle pointed her bouquet in Gaston’s direction and Maurice beamed.  “Finally!  I never thought I’d see the lad get over his infatuation with you.” The king groaned. “Gah!!! Another wedding to plan.  And I do _not_ look forward to having Lady Bea as an in-law.”

       She bit her lip to keep from laughing at the look of abject misery on her father’s face.  And then she was stepping in time with him through the doors and out onto the carpeted runner leading to the altar, her eyes meeting her groom’s, and all else faded away.  The love in his eyes wrapped around her and made her warm, safe…happy, and she couldn’t wait for her life to be joined with his.

       The king leaned in to whisper, “Daughter, are you certain he’s the one you want?”

       “Yes, papa.”

       Maurice plastered a smile to his face and nodded at Lord Smythe sitting on the end of a row as he passed.  “I can’t believe I’m going to have to tell people that my son in law is the Dark One.”

       Belle bit the inside of her cheek and snorted softly.  “I thought you’d come to terms with this.”

       “I have,” he assured her.  “But I’m your father before your king and it’s my duty to make certain you’re certain.  So are you certain?”

       “Papa, you’re rambling.”

       “Sorry.”

       A few more steps down the aisle and he said, “It’s still not too late to change your mind.”

       Belle trained her gaze on Rumpelstiltskin and the puzzled look he cast her.  He was surely dying to know what they could be discussing.

       “Although after what I witnessed the other night in the kitchen, I suppose it’s best to marry you off to him post haste,” he said with a grimace.

       “Papa,” she groaned, heat rising along her neck to settle becomingly in the apples of her cheeks.

       “But seriously, Belle, if this isn’t what you want, I can have Gaston cause a distraction and we can slip out the side door.”

       “Papa!” she gasped, her step faltering and laughter bubbling from her lips.  Several members of the court stared curiously and shook their heads.  The girl had always been odd and now her sanity was being questioned that she was actually happy about marrying the Dark One.

       “I’m teasing, darling,” he murmured.

       Rumpelstiltskin moved down the short flight of steps to stand at the bottom of the dais, waiting to take her hand from Maurice as they edged closer.  Belle turned to her father and embraced him tightly, knowing he had teased her all the way down the aisle to chase away the bout of nerves that would otherwise have consumed her.

       “I love you, papa,” she whispered.

       Maurice brushed the single tear away from her cheek and pressed a kiss to her brow.  “I love you, too, daughter.” He turned to Rumpelstiltskin and joined their hands in his own, detaining them just a moment.  “Take care of my girl, lad.”

       A smirk curled the Dark One’s lips at the name his future father in law persisted on calling him as he dipped into a slight bow.  “You have my word, sire.”

       Maurice smiled sadly as Belle was led up the steps by her betrothed to stand before the simple country pastor the Dark One had found to perform the ceremony.  He didn’t want any of the clerics from the Holy Order of Avonlea anywhere near their wedding.  Maurice would let _nothing_ ruin his daughter’s wedding day, having waited too long, in his opinion, to attain her heart’s desire.

       Brother Patrick stepped forward and adjusted the spectacles on the end of his nose, the holy word already open in his hands.  “Who gives this woman to this man to be joined in the bonds of holy matrimony?” he asked, his voice carrying throughout the cavernous room.

       “I do,” Maurice declared loudly so all could hear.  “Her father, her king; I give them my blessing.”

       Brother Patrick nodded and eyed the couple before him as he began.  “Belle, high and noble princess of the kingdom of Avonlea, do you enter into this union of your own free will, without coercion or any means that would give me cause to deny you this true and binding contract?”

       Belle’s eyes never left those of her groom, basking in the warmth held so deeply in their warm amber depths.  “I, Belle, high and noble princess of the kingdom of Avonlea, do solemnly declare that I do so, without any lawful impediment, willingly choose Rumpelstiltskin for my husband.”

       It was clear to the pastor that Belle had indeed chosen the sorcerer, that this was a love match…no matter how odd.  He turned to the mage and addressed him with the same question.  “Rumpelstiltskin, do you enter into this union of your own free will, without coercion or any means that would give me cause to deny you this true and binding contract?”

       Rumpelstiltskin’s gaze caressed his bride’s face with reverence, his voice low and raspy with emotion as he answered, “I, Rumpelstiltskin, do solemnly declare that I do so, without any lawful impediment, willingly choose Belle, high and noble princess of the kingdom of Avonlea, for my wife.”

       “If anyone here among you have reason to believe that this union should not take place, it is your duty to your kingdom and to the throne to stand now and make such reasons known,” the pastor intoned.

       Jefferson arched a brow and looked out over the sea of faces in the congregation, wondering who would be going home today as a snail.  He breathed a sigh of relief as silence reigned in the Great Hall…not that the imp would have noticed.  The Dark One was totally and completely enraptured with his bride and paid attention to little else.

       Rumpelstiltskin brushed his thumb across Belle’s knuckles as the pastor droned on about the sanctity of marriage.  He couldn’t care less what the man had to say, knowing his duties to her as her husband.  It was the fact that his beautiful girl was actually standing before him in front of a clergyman…albeit a clergyman he’d had to bribe…promising him forever, that so puzzled him.  This was the second time she’d promised, both of her own free will and he counted himself lucky to have found the one woman who saw something in him no one else ever had.  She saw his heart, but she also saw the darkness and the fear he lived with, braving it all to be with him, and the knowledge nearly brought him to his knees.

       “Belle and Rumpelstiltskin have chosen to recite their own vows,” Brother Patrick went on.  “Rumpelstiltskin?”

       Belle raised her brows in askance and it took him a moment to realize the pastor was speaking to him.  “I beg your pardon?”

       “Your vows?” the pastor prompted.

       Abigail took Belle’s bouquet from her so the groom could clasp both of Belle’s hands in his as he began.  “Belle, for so long, words have ruled my life.  They’re to be chosen with great care for my contracts and yet here I am entering into the most important of my life and they fail me.  You came to me in a deal, my Belle, one that took you from a life of privilege and made you a servant.  Yet it was the best deal I’ve ever made.  I expected you to fear me, to loath and despise me, but instead you showed me kindness and friendship and eventually love.  You made me remember what it was to be a man instead of a monster and still I tossed it all away.  I can never express how thankful I am that you forgave me, that you loved me enough to let me back into your heart and I will spend forever with you showing you just how much I love you. I pledge myself to you in good and in bad, in sickness and in health, until death takes me from you.  This is my bond and my troth to be yours always.”

       Tears spilled over her lashes in a torrent to hear him declare himself, to be so open about his love for her before so many witnesses.  “Rumpelstiltskin, when I made my decision to go with you, I _did_ fear you.  Yet the more time I spent with you, the more the mask slipped away to reveal the man you really are.  I could see _you_ behind the dark humor and the darker moods, to the lonely sweet spinner, and it made me love you all the more.  I love you to the very depths of my soul, Rumpel, forever.  I pledge myself to you in good and in bad, in sickness and in health, until death takes me from you.  This is my bond and my troth to be yours always.”

       The pastor cleared his throat and smiled broadly at the couple.  “Belle, Rumpelstiltskin…you’ve chosen to exchange rings as a sign of your love and fidelity for one another.  If you please?”

       Belle smiled through her happy tears and reached up to brush a tear from the corner of his eye.  They were both overwrought with emotion.  It had taken them one trial after another to reach that moment and every tear she’d shed for him had been worth it.  She took the heavy gold band from Abigail with shaking hands as Rumpelstiltskin took one from Jefferson, sliding it onto her finger above her betrothal ring. Belle gasped as she got her first good look at the ring she would wear from then until the day she died.  It was yellow, rose and white gold, its intricate thin strands braided with tiny diamonds and sapphires between the delicate threads and she knew her beloved had made it for her from his own gold and magic.

       He pressed a kiss to her knuckle as he whispered, “A token of my love and a symbol that I choose you, my Belle.  With this ring I thee wed.”

       Her smile was radiant as she in turn slid the ring onto his finger.  “A token of my love and a symbol that I choose you, Rumpel.  With this ring I thee wed.”

       Brother Patrick placed his hand upon their heads and said a prayer for their union before saying where all could hear, “One heart, one mind, one soul are you joined.  What the gods have joined together, let no man put asunder.  I now pronounce you man and wife.  You may now kiss the bride.”

       Rumpelstiltskin gathered her gently into his arms, pressing his lips to hers, tasting the saltiness of her happy tears.  It was a heady feeling to kiss her for the first time as husband and wife, all the joy in his heart spilling over into his gentle kiss.  He could have happily stood there for an eternity just kissing her, knowing she belonged to him and him alone.  Her fingers twined into the hair at his nape as his arms pressed her closer and he emitted a small breathless sigh against her lips.  Someone barked an uncomfortable cough.  It sounded a lot like Jefferson and the sound brought him back to his senses, making him pull back enough to see her flushed cheeks and heavy lidded eyes filled with the stirrings of desire.

       Jefferson clapped him on the back and was the first to offer his congratulations to the couple as the court erupted in subdued cheers, offering grudging support for the newly married couple.  It was the least they could do for their princess and the sorcerer whose deal it had been to save their kingdom.  Rumpelstiltskin led her down the carpeted steps of the dais and back down the aisle, Jefferson with Abigail on his arm and Hope on Gaston’s following behind them.

X*X*X*X*X

       The receiving line leading into the Grand Ballroom, comprised of the king, bride and groom, and their four attendants, was an unmitigated disaster.  Their guests made their way along the line fairly well until they reached the radiant bride and her scowling groom.  With a bow or a quick curtsey, they hurriedly moved off.  Finally, Belle had enough of Jefferson’s snickering and Rumpelstiltskin’s glaring and led him off to the high table where they would partake in a brunch her father had insisted upon.

       “Can you not just act civil for one formal engagement?” she asked with a weary sigh as he held out her chair, pushing it in as she settled on the cushioned seat.

       He sat beside her and took the ewer of sweet mulled wine from the servant, pouring a liberal amount into her goblet.  “Believe me, my lady wife,” he paused, smiling smugly as the title rolled sinuously from his tongue, “this is quite civil compared to what I am capable of.”

       Belle snorted as she sipped delicately from the goblet and let the bouquet and flavor caress her tongue.  “Seriously?” she asked, tossing a dry look his way.  “You have impeccable manners, darling.  There’s no excuse—“

       Rumpelstiltskin poked at the seared sea bass on his plate.  “Perhaps I don’t want these court dandies drooling all over what rightfully belongs to me, dearie,” he retorted, taking a bite and refusing to turn her way so she could witness the jealousy in his eyes firsthand.

       She was silent for a full five seconds as his words sank in and she chuckled.  “Oh, Rum, there’s no reason for you to be jealous.  I lived with them a lot longer than you; some I grew up with.  Never once did I find myself wanting a match with any of them.” She reached over and twined her fingers with his, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.  “You’re the only man I ever _wanted_ to marry, the only man I’ve ever trusted with my heart.”

       “Yes and we know how well that worked out…in the beginning,” he said sourly. .

       “It’s the ending that matters,” she murmured, having to have the last word.  “And Rumpel?”

       “Hm?” he asked around a mouthful of bacon wrapped asparagus.

       “It’s you I’m going home with,” she purred, a rosy blush creeping up her neck.  Heat simmered low in her belly as she watched his face fall slack and his pupils dilate just a bit.

       “Daughter, could you please refrain from teasing my son in law before he incinerates the table with a look, hm?” Maurice snarked from her left.

       Belle’s blush deepened, her husband’s warm laughter echoing in her ears.

X*X*X*X*X

       Rumpelstiltskin’s patience was worn thin.  They’d barely been at their own reception for an hour and already he was wishing he could just whisk Belle away in a swirl of magic off to their home high in the mountains.  “Belle, love, how much longer are you going to punish me?”

       Her tinkling laughter sent a shiver of pleasure tripping along his spine and a deep rumbling growl sounded low in his throat.  “I believe you gave me permission for this wedding, darling, and with only three days to plan.  I’m simply following our contract to the letter,” she teased, twirling out before he reeled her back in as they waltzed across the parquet floor.

       “I think you might have misread that clause, dearie,” he said, the imp in him coming out to play the part of the deal-making Dark One.  “The contract states that I would give you three days to plan a wedding… _not_ a reception.”

       Belle pursed her lips, drawing his gaze as she moved her fingers along his shoulder to tease the curls just behind his ears, knowing it drove him mad.  “Aren’t you being a bit technical? Weddings and the follow up celebration go hand in hand; wouldn’t you say?” She said the last, her nose brushing his and her lips so close to his own he…

       “I will only tell you this once more, madam; the only one of your daughters I care to associate with is Hope.  She’s witty and charming and intelligent and I don’t care for the way you treat her—“

       Belle’s head whipped around and she missed a step as she tried to see around Rumpelstiltskin’s shoulder.  Her husband propelled her forward and away from the irate voice of her dear friend.  “It’s not your concern, Belle.”

       “But, Rum—“

       “Let him fight for her.”  His eyes softened as he caught her gaze.  “It will be all the sweeter when he wins her.” He laughed softly, his nose crinkling.  “Perhaps he’ll want to make a deal to do away with that harridan he’ll be saddled with as a mother-in-law.  I could always turn her into a snail.  Hope could put her in a terrarium.”

       “Rumpel!” she gasped…only to fall into a fit of giggles at the mental image his words conjured.

       Abigail and Hope were waiting for Belle as he led her from the dance floor.  “I know you’re anxious to begin your journey home, Belle, so let’s get you ready shall we?” Midas’ daughter asked, taking her role as maid of honor rather seriously.

       “But—“

       Belle reached up on her toes and kissed him softly, cutting off his protests.  “I promise I won’t be long.  I love you!” she called over her shoulder as her ladies dragged her away to change.

       He raked a frustrated hand through his long hair and groaned.  Jefferson clapped him on the back before slinging an arm around his shoulders and steering him in the opposite direction.  “Come on, Rum, you look like you could use a drink.”

       The Dark One scowled at the hatter, but followed along regardless.  “I don’t need a drink!” he grumbled.  “I need to be away from this bloody madhouse.”

       Jefferson led him to a small parlor near the entrance hall where Belle would meet him when she was ready to leave.  Rumpelstiltskin paced before the cold hearth as Jefferson poured them a decent measure of scotch.  He snatched it from the hatter, tossed it back, handed Jefferson the empty tumbler and then took the one the hatter had poured for himself; downing it swiftly and giving him that one back as well.

       The milliner’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline, a wide grin on his lips.  “Well…feel better?”

       The sorcerer twirled his wrist with a flourish and said, “Not remotely.”  Maurice entered the room and headed straight for the decanter of scotch, Gaston on his heels.  “And it seems to have gotten worse,” he mumbled under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose.

       “That woman has got to go, Sire!” Gaston fumed, his face bright red.  “How am I supposed to court Hope if her mother is constantly pushing her other two daughters at me at every available opportunity?”

       Maurice tossed back his drink and poured another before settling in a plush armchair and leveling his heir with a weary look upon his weathered face.  “Just what would you have me do, lad?  Lord Gerald is one of my most trusted advisors.  I can’t very well toss his wife out of the castle on her noble rump!”

       Gaston collapsed onto the sofa and pulled the abandoned decanter of scotch towards him.  “I don’t see why they can’t just go home.  If Gerald is here, Hope would be properly chaperoned.  There’s no reason _that woman_ has to remain here at the palace.”

       Rumpelstiltskin giggled, an idea forming in his mind on how he might be able to help his new so-called in-law…for a price…and cause a bit of mischief for a certain queen in the process.  “Care to make a deal, dearie?”

       “No…um, what kind of deal?” Gaston asked, eyeing the Dark One, his dark eyes narrowing with suspicion.  It was well known by all close to the princess that the sorcerer held no tender feelings for his new family and he couldn’t help but be wary.

       Jefferson snickered and leaned forward in his chair, his grey eyes alight with interest.  Maurice shook his head and sipped at his drink, refusing to get in the middle of this until he heard the Dark One’s price and Rumpelstiltskin smirked as he stretched his left arm out along the mantel above the hearth, the fingers of his right hand rubbing together in anticipation.

       “You wish the girl’s mother and sisters out of your hair. I may have just the thing in mind to make that happen for you,” he said, his voice high pitched, reminding the king and Gaston of the night he’d come to make his deal with Belle.  “The question is, dearie…what are you willing to barter in exchange?”

       “Anything.”

       “Gaston!” the king reprimanded.  “He may be Belle’s husband now, but he’s still the Dark One.”

       Rumpelstiltskin smiled darkly, enjoying the game.  “Don’t worry.  This won’t even require magic, so the cost will be small.  A favor, if you will.  It will make my wife happy to see you married and settled with your lady love,” he said by way of explaining.

       “A favor?” Gaston asked incredulously, unable to believe his luck.

       “It could be something as simple as bringing some of her favorite fruit to the Dark Castle.  Don’t worry your dull little head over it.” Another impish giggle.  Then again he might gift Belle with the favor owed just to see what she would do with it.  “Do we have a deal?”

       “What do you have in mind, Rum?” Jefferson asked.

       Rumpelstiltskin changed out of his wedding finery with a snap of his finger, once more dressed in leather, silk and his favorite dragon hide coat.  He giggled again and produced a full length mirror, positioning it where the other three occupants in the room wouldn’t be seen through it when he summoned Regina.  “Come out, come out, dearie!”

       It only took a moment for Regina’s scowling visage to appear in the silvery glass.  “Rumpel, how lovely,” she said dryly.  “I thought you didn’t want to be disturbed on your holiday or whatever it is you’re about.”

       “Yes, but see I’m doing the disturbing, therefore it’s perfectly acceptable.”

       Regina sneered back at him, her ruby lips curling.  “Well? What is it you want?”

       He tapped the tips of his fingers together as he made her wait, letting her impatience grow.  “I am calling in a favor; one of the many you owe me.” Her sneer grew, yet she held her tongue, willing to hear him out in hopes that one of his infernal favors could be stricken from the books.  “A client of mine has two lovely daughters of marriageable age and I wish to send them to your court.  They can act as your ladies in waiting and you can help them find suitable husbands.”

       Regina groaned.  “Seriously?  You think I have nothing better to do with my time?  I’m not a babysitter, Rumpel.”

       He quirked a brow at the queen.  “And I don’t recall asking you to babysit.  I’m asking you to find them husbands.  Give charge of them over to one of your people;don’t really care.  Just prepare for their arrival.”

       “Fine,” she said, rolling her eyes.

       “Oh and you are not allowed to use magic on them, dearie.  I did promise my client.  So do try to be on your best behavior,” he said, a positively wicked grin and a giggle accompanying that statement.

       “What!?” she shrieked.

       “You heard me.  Now be a good girl and heed my warning.” With a flick of his wrist, the mirror vanished, cutting off the queen’s shriek of outrage at being dismissed and forced into something she didn’t want to do.  He turned to the king, informing him, “You will need to see to it that the ladies bring a letter of introduction to the queen.”

       “What are you doing, love?” Belle asked from her position in the open doorway, eyes narrowed with suspicion, as she brushed imaginary lint from the sleeve of her ivory traveling costume.  “I thought you were ready to depart?”

       The Dark One quailed under her glare and retreated to his cage, leaving the spinner’s mouth gaping open guiltily.  “Just a little deal, dearest.  Nothing to concern yourself over.”

       “If it involves Regina, then yes I have cause to worry.”

       He moved to her side, his heart swelling with love for her.  She wasn’t upset that he was dealing, but rather with whom he was dealing.  His Belle was concerned for _him_.  Taking her hands in his, he kissed each one in turn.  “I promise there is no cause for you to worry.  I will tell you all the details if you wish once we’re on our way.”

       He led her out into the courtyard, her family, friends and Jefferson following.  She turned to her father and lost herself in his comforting arms.  “I love you, papa,” she whispered as she pressed a kiss to his cheek.

       “I love you too, daughter.  I’ll miss you terribly,” he said, his voice thick with unshed tears.  Brutal stepped to the king’s side and held out a wrapped bundle.  Maurice took it from him and presented it to the former princess.  “I commissioned this for you…a wedding gift.”

       “Papa, you’ve done so much already.  This isn’t necessary,” she protested.

       “This is for you.  The Dark One got my daughter, you get this.” He lowered his voice to a whisper.  “To keep him in line.”

       Rumpelstiltskin rolled his eyes, having heard the king’s words.  Belle unwrapped the bundle to find a short sword and dagger, light in weight for easy maneuverability, made of the finest goblin steel in the land.  Each blade had runes engraved into the shiny steel for protection and on the handle her name was inscribed.  Next to the ‘B’ was the king’s crest and next to the ‘e’ was the crest of the Dark One.

       “Papa,” she groaned, throwing herself back into the king’s arms.  “Thank you.  This is just—“ Words failed her as she looked down at the weapons.

       “So you’ll always be able to protect yourself.  I trust your husband to watch over you, but it doesn’t hurt to be able to look after yourself.”

       Rumpelstiltskin waited patiently with Jefferson while Belle said goodbye to Brutal, Penelope, Abigail, Gaston and a handful of others.  “You don’t mind if I just use the coin to go home, do you?  I’d really rather not have to endure a carriage ride with a newly married couple,” the hatter asked, casting his friend a sly grin.

       “I think that would be best.  And Jefferson, thank you,” the imp said gruffly, his voice ringing with sincerity instead of his usual condescension and sarcasm.

       Jefferson cleared his throat and nodded, turning the coin in his hand and disappearing in a blink.  Belle finally joined him at the carriage and he handed her up into the conveyance, following behind.  She waved from the open window as they trundled over the cobbles towards the gates of the city before settling against the seat and curling against her husband’s side.

       He dropped a kiss to the top of her head and finally felt himself relax.  “So, dearest, where would you like to go on your honeymoon?  Anywhere you wish to go; it’s your choice.”

       Belle smiled happily, her eyes shining as she met her husband’s warm gaze.  There was only one place she wished to go for now, the one place she’d never wished to leave in the first place.  “Home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I know it’s been quite a while since I posted, but I promised you all that I do not abandon my fics. I just dread having to write weddings and this one was no exception. I hope you all enjoyed it regardless. I hope it won’t be too much longer before I am inspired to update this fic again as it doesn’t have too many chapters left to go.  
> So, as a reward for my faithful and supportive readers, I have posted the final chapter of “Dragon’s Breath” –(if you haven’t checked it out, feel free to do so. It’s one of my personal favorites.), this chapter of “Belle’s Journal”, and a new chapter of “Love Letters”. I hope you’ve enjoyed them all and I look forward to your comments. You guys are amazing!


	17. Chapter 17

        Belle was practically hanging out the carriage window, her entire body humming with excitement the black iron gates of the Dark Castle looming up before them as they crested the last hill on the mountain pass.  One word seemed to reverberate through her mind… _HOME!!!_   It didn’t matter that it had taken them a day and a half in the stifling carriage to arrive…their time had been cut in half due to a fair bit of magic on Rumpelstiltskin’s part…she didn’t want to miss the first glimpse of her home.  The many weeks she’d had to spend in Avonlea had just made her appreciate it all the more.  Her father hadn’t been her home, even though she was thrilled that he’d welcomed her back with open arms.  She’d craved the warm hearth of the Great Hall, the steady creak and hum of Rumpelstiltskin’s spinning wheel and the cozy comfort of her library.  The Dark Castle and her wily sorcerer were her home and a thrill of pleasure wove through her at the sight of the stone fortress.

        She squeaked in surprise as her husband’s wiry arms wrapped themselves around her waist and pulled her back against his chest, his lips instantly nuzzling the tattoo imprinted on her flesh below her left ear.  “Happy, dear one?” he whispered, his hot breath fanning her ear and causing a delicious shiver to travel down her spine.

        Belle relaxed back into his embrace and hummed in pleasure.  “Indeed, I am considering I never thought to see the Dark Castle again,” she said, turning to meet his lips with hers.

        “Belle, I—“ he began, her fingertips to his lips cutting off what he’d wanted to say.

        “No regrets, no recriminations, Rumpel.  Everything worked out in the end,” she said, replacing her fingertips with her lips for a heartfelt kiss.  She sighed when his moodiness didn’t dissipate and tucked her head beneath his chin, her hand resting lightly over his heart.  “I hope you plan on compensating poor Teddy for bringing us home so quickly.  You didn’t stop to let the poor man even stretch his legs.”

        “Magic, my darling,” he said, tapping the end of her nose with one long finger.  “It was a simple spell to give our horses and Dove enough stamina to make it home with all haste.  And yes he will be compensated.”

        “It would have been fine had we stopped at one of the villages we passed through.  There were several posting inns that looked nice where we could have spent the night,” she murmured, pressing a light kiss to his throat.  She’d made quick work of his cravat and jacket early into their journey, the excess garments impeding her exploration of her new husband.

        His hands tightened on her waist, pulling her more firmly against his side as she nipped at his collarbone.  “We were _not_ spending our wedding night in a posting inn, Belle,” he said, continuing their earlier argument.

        “I suppose not,” she grumbled, turning once again to look out the window and the carriage rumbled along the cobbled path of the courtyard.  They’d had a pleasant journey with the aid of his magic and he’d made an excellent pillow when the excitement of the day had given way to fatigue.  The basket Mrs. Potts had prepared for them with bread, cheese, cured meats and a lovely bottle of wine had sustained their hunger, but it would have been nice to stop for a while.  She could only surmise that her husband was as eager to reach their home as she was.  She was just thankful there hadn’t been a wagon full of luggage to slow them down, all her possessions from her childhood home forwarded to the Dark Castle with a flick of Rumpelstiltskin’s wrist.

        “Seriously, dearest, I need to brew a potion to rid you of the sickness that overwhelms you when we travel by magic.  It will make travel quicker,” he lamented, brushing a curl behind her ear.

        “I _like_ the carriage, Rumpel.  The journey is half the fun,” she said with a suggestive wink as the carriage rolled to a stop.  He’d just reached for her again when Dove let down the steps and opened the door, offering her a hand down from the conveyance.

        Dove bowed low over her hand, grinning shyly.  “Welcome home, milady.”

        Belle beamed at him.  “Thank you, Teddy; and for seeing us home safely as well.”

        “As always, I am at your service,” he said before climbing back into the driver’s box and leading the carriage away to shelter it and see to the horses before returning to his own home.

        “If only he were so malleable to _my_ wishes,” Rumpelstiltskin grumbled.

        “He’ll come around.  I’m sure he’s just disgruntled because you sent his favorite tea companion away.  Now that I’m home…” she squealed delightedly as he scooped her up into his arms and carried her up the front steps of the Dark Castle.

        “…you’ll be having tea with me,” he said firmly, carrying her across the foyer and into the Great Hall.  He set her back on her feet on the rug before the hearth, but didn’t release her, capturing her lips in a searing kiss, one hand plunging into her hair and scattering the remaining pins that hadn’t been lost already in the carriage.

        She smiled lazily up at him when he stepped back, a quick flick of his wrist producing a bottle of sparkling white wine and two crystal flutes.  “Don’t be jealous, darling.  Dove has my friendship, but you are the only man who has ever held my heart,” she whispered, pressing another kiss to the corner of his mouth before he moved away to pour the wine.  She took the moment to wander through the hall, hiding her smile at the tender look in his amber eyes as they followed her.

        Belle winced as she ran her fingertips over the long dining table, leaving a trail through the fine film of dust on its surface.  It seemed unfair to be an all-powerful wizard whose magic had absolutely no influence over dust.  She moved from one pedestal to the next, reacquainting herself with her home, remembering several instances when she’d almost broken a few and the scoldings she’d received from her _then_ master.  It even came as a surprise to her that he hadn’t replaced the draperies after he’d banished her from the castle, that he hadn’t retreated completely into the darkness.  Even his spinning wheel had a fine layer of dust, which made her wonder how much use it had seen after her departure.  She gave it a lazy turn, closing her eyes and reveling in the sound it made.

        “Melancholy thoughts have no room on our agenda tonight, sweetheart,” he said, moving to her side and pressing a champagne flute into her hand.  His now free hand caressed her cheek, his gaze warm, tender.  “Welcome home,” he said, reverence quite evident in his tone.

        She wrapped her arm around his waist and pressed herself against his chest as she sipped at her champagne.  “It’s wonderful to _be_ home…with you.”  She set her glass down on the edge of his spinning wheel and looped her arms about his neck.  “But before we continue this momentous occasion,” she purred, “I would like to take a bath to get some of the travel dust off of me.  You don’t mind, do you?”

        He set his glass next to hers and once again swung her up into his arms, wishing he could magic them to their destination instead of having to walk.  Not that he minded carrying his new bride down three flights of stairs, just hating that it would take time to do so when he was so ready to show her what he had planned for them.  “Actually…I do,” he said, his thin lips curving up into a smirk.

        “Rumpel,” she said hesitantly, tightening her arms about his shoulders.  “I really want a bath, love.”

        “And a bath my lady wife shall have as soon as I show you your surprise,” he teased, the torches in the wall brackets flaring to life as he set off down the corridor that led to the dungeons.

        Belle gripped his shoulders tighter as he began to descend the stone staircase, burying her face in the crook of his neck and praying that he would continue to be sure-footed.  “When did you even have time to plan a surprise?  You’ve been with me the entire time!”  Her eyes narrowed on him as he stopped for a moment to stare down at her once they’d reached the dungeon level.  “And I’m _not_ going back into that cell, Rumpelstiltskin!”

        He cast her a wounded look as he turned left down another passageway and started down another set of stairs.  “I would never.  Really I think I might be rather offended that you would think such a thing, dearest.”

        Belle snorted, arching a brow at him.  “What a load of…”

        “…now, Belle…”

        “…horse hockey,” she continued despite his warning.  “Do we need to discuss your temper?”

        “Perhaps later,” he added with a wicked grin.  “I mean we could always nip back up to the cell and…”

        She giggled, pressing her lips to his.  “Incorrigible.”  It warmed her heart that he felt so free to tease her now.  So much had changed between them in the last month it sometimes felt like a dream, and then she would pinch herself and realize it was—one that had come true.  She wanted nothing more than to spend forever with the enigmatic man whose heart she’d won.

        The light dimmed as they descended further into the bowels of the castle and she could hear the slow burble of water, knowing instantly where he was taking her.  She was wary of his insistence to bring her here, remembering when she’d first come to the Dark Castle and using the hot springs beneath as her only recourse for a bath.  Did he know—of course he did?  There was nothing that went on in the fortress that he wasn’t aware of.  A fiery blush lit her face and she was thankful that he wouldn’t see it in the dark as it pressed in on them.

        “Can you even see where you’re going?” she asked, clinging tightly to his shoulders lest he drop her.

        “I’ll not drop you, my Belle, if that is what concerns you,” he murmured, his lips grazing the shell of her ear and sending delightful tingles along her flesh.  The stairs ended on the rough stone that covered the floor of the cavern but instead of hearing the sharp tap of his boot heels on the ancient stone, only the sound of the bubbling springs met her ears.

        “We could have at least brought a lantern down with us so _I_ could see as well,” she grumbled.  A gasp escaped her lips as she felt her heavy traveling costume fall away and all she could feel against her skin was the soft brush of silk and chiffon. “Oh…”

        Rumpelstiltskin ran his hands over her sides, so much better able to feel her through the thinness of the gown his magic had made for her, not wanting her to feel overwhelmed and vulnerable by leaving her naked and exposed.  He clothed himself in his softest cotton sleeping attire, the breeches ending mid-calf and the tunic long sleeved and open at the throat, the ties hanging loosely and leaving it partially unlaced. 

        “I wouldn’t want to deprive your other senses of your gift,” he whispered against the crown of her hair as he turned her in his arms until her back was pressed firmly against his chest.  “Tell me what you feel, dear one.”

        Belle hummed in pleasure as she wiggled her bare toes and felt the warm grass beneath her feet instead of the sharp stone.  A light breeze wafted over her exposed arms, yet it was warm and dry instead of the chilled dampness that usually permeated the chamber.  That same breeze rustled something that could only be leaves in her mind and the scents that met her nose were reminiscent of the forest- fresh air and pine and freshly turned dirt- instead of the dank smell of age and disuse.  “Did we leave the castle without my knowledge?  It smells and feels so much like we’re in the forest, Rumpel.  What did you do?” she asked, her tone filled with wonder.

        “Just a simple glamour.”  With a grand flourish of his wrist, moonlight streamed through the boughs of the trees in a star-filled sky, illuminating the largest of the three springs and she could at last take in the sheer beauty that surrounded them.  “Something beautiful for you to enjoy in the darkness of our home.  This is another space of your own, like your library, where you can rest and enjoy time to yourself.”

        “No,” she breathed, turning again in his arms to slide her hands up his chest to cradle his face in her warm hands.  “This will be ours to share.”

        A slow smile spread over his face as he basked in her joy.  “You like it then?”

        “It’s wonderful,” she gushed happily, grabbing his hand and tugging him with her to the water’s edge, careful not to crush the forget-me-nots that dotted the grass.  “This is the most amazing thing I think I’ve ever seen you do with your magic.”  She sighed in contentment as his hands spread over her belly and his lips brushed softly along the curve of her shoulder.

        He chuckled softly as she relaxed back into his embrace, her hands fluttering nervously at her sides as she trembled slightly.  “I can’t decide if you look more like a pagan goddess or a water sprite,” he murmured, his teeth nipping lightly at his mark beneath her left ear.  “Or perhaps a sea nymph.”

        The low husky timbre of his voice combined with the light play of his fingers along her abdomen sent a delicious thrill tripping along her flesh, heat pooling in her lower belly and seeming to center between her thighs.  His hands trailed lower, over her hips and to the outsides of her legs, catching in the gauzy chiffon of the knee length skirt of her thin gown, pulling it higher.

        “May I?” he whispered, the breath catching in his throat as she nodded frantically, already caught under the spell of their shared desires.

        “Yes,” she breathed, the sound nearly lost in the cavernous room amidst the breeze and burble of the spring.  Steam rose from it, surrounding them in its warmth and comfort, causing a slight sheen of perspiration to form on her skin, curling tendrils that escaped her upswept hair sticking to her brow and neck.  She was his goddess, his nymph, his sprite, but more importantly…his wife.  For so long she’d wanted him to touch her this way, to claim her, possess her, love her and never in her wildest dreams could she have thought it to be more perfect than this moment.

        At her acquiescence, he pulled the gown over her head and tossed it aside, smiling as a rosy blush of maidenly shyness rose in her chest to spread upward until it settled into the apples of her cheeks.  Her arms lifted to shield herself from his view as she ducked her head.  “Go, dearest, into the water with you,” he said, giving her a gentle push.

        Belle stepped forward and lowered herself into the pool, wading into the center where the water was deeper until she could hide herself somewhat from his view.  It was maddening to feel so nervous with him and she took a deep calming breath before turning to face him.  She tilted her head to the side and arched a brow when she noticed he was still standing where she’d left him.  “Aren’t you coming?” she asked, a slow smile curving her lips.

        His cock twitched at the seductive lilt of her voice, her siren’s song beckoning him to her, yet he was still hesitant to shuck his armor before her searching gaze.  It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen him without a shirt before, but the circumstances had been entirely different.  After the wolf attack, she’d been more concerned with his wounds than his actual state of undress and then the day of their wedding after his bath, he’d still been partially clothed.  He’d never had leave to do… _this_.  “Belle,” he breathed, a raspy choking sound.  “Are you sure?”

        She nodded slowly, the tip of her pink tongue darting out to wet her lips.  “I’m sure, my husband,” she murmured silkily, her eyes roaming his lithe form as she waited for him to disrobe, anxious to see him bared to her gaze. “Come on, darling, off with it.  It clearly states in our betrothal contract that I get to have you,” she teased, trying to soothe his fears that she wouldn’t want him.

        He grew harder beneath her steady gaze, her eyes blown wide with desire and he found himself breathless under the truth in her stare.  She truly wanted him, scales, claws and all and he was powerless to resist her.  He pulled the shirt over his head and dropped it in the soft grass at his feet, arching a brow and challenging her to look away.  When she didn’t, he screwed up his courage and reached for the ties of his cotton trousers.

        Belle could feel her face flame as he loosened the ties and let his last remaining garment slip down over his hips to pool around his ankles, but she couldn’t bring herself to look away, her eyes roaming over his wiry frame from his head to his toes.  Her eyes glowed with appreciation as they settled on his engorged member lying stiff and proud against his lower belly.  She met his gaze once more and bit her lip as she read the uncertainty there, his doubts that she would still want to go through with this now that she’d seen the beast without his armor.  She simply held her arms wide to him, standing straight and tall out of the pool where the water only lapped about her middle.  It he was brave enough to stand before her naked and exposed, she could do no less for him.

        He needed no further encouragement, entering the pool and gathering her up in his arms until her feet no longer touched the stone bottom of the spring.  He kissed her gently, reverently, the beast locked away in his cage, leaving only her husband, the man she loved to worship her body as he did her heart and soul.  Her hands moved along his upper arms as she lost herself to the heat and passion, finally snaking into his hair to coil through the strands.  It was everything he’d imagined from the first time he’d spied on her at her bath in the spring, so very long ago.

        The sorcerer drew away, taking in the flush on her cheeks, her eyes heavy-lidded in her desire and her petal soft lips parted and swollen from the onslaught of his mouth.  “I dreamed of you here, my Belle.  Here in this pool, ripe for pleasure,” he said, his lips following along the curve of her jaw.

        A delicious shiver wracked her body, causing her to arch into him, her breasts pressing into his chest.  She reveled in the contact just as much as from his wicked words.  “You watched m-me?” she asked, trying to focus her attention away from what he was making her feel.

        He nuzzled against the sensitive flesh where her shoulder met her neck, nipping gently with his sharp teeth.  “Mmhm,” he acknowledged.  “I couldn’t find my little dearie, was afraid she’d gotten herself in a bit of trouble.”  He left hot open mouthed kisses along her collarbone.  “Imagine my surprise when I found you down here, gloriously naked, the water droplets shining against your perfect skin like diamonds in the light of your lantern.”

        His large hands cupped her breasts, the rough pads of his thumbs lightly ghosting over the peaks as his lips returned to hers, muffling the keening cry that seemed to be ripped from her throat.  He pressed her against the smooth stone side of the pool and began again, leaving not an inch of exposed skin free of his questing lips and tongue.  “I wanted you so badly, Belle,” he whispered, drawing her nipple deep into his mouth and laving it with his tongue, a low growl rumbling in his chest as her nails raked over his chest.

        He wanted so badly to tell her just what he’d wanted to do to her, but words failed him as his hands trailed lower over the smooth curve of her hips and the inside of her slender thighs before covering the downy nest of curls resting between her legs.  “I never thought you would want me like this”

        “S-Since the wolves…when I thought I was going to d-die and you were all I could th-think about…I—“ she cried out as he parted her folds, his long spinner’s fingers dipping into her heat, his thumb finding and rubbing the hot bud of flesh protruding wantonly above her entrance.  He bucked against her hip, needing to relieve some of the ache in his straining cock

        It wasn’t enough.  He’d waited too long to have her fully, months of yearning to be buried in her sweet flesh and now he needed more.  Even the churning swirling water enveloping them was not enough to relieve the ache in his loins.  Her short blunt nails scratched against his flat nipples and he bit into the mark beneath her ear, suckling and drawing her flesh into his mouth until she was left gasping and panting and writhing frantically in his arms, all the while pressing into the hand between her legs.

        “Open your eyes, love,” he commanded, feeling the fluttering of her inner walls against his finger as he thrust them faster inside her, knowing she was close.  “I want you to look at me when you come.  I need to see you find your pleasure, love.”  His free hand delved into her hair, sending the pins scattering against the stone ledge with a soft pinging sound.    He pressed his thumb against her clit and she came apart, her eyes wide, only a tiny ring of blue showing around her blown pupils.  He groaned and rubbed himself against her as he slowed the movements of his hand, bringing her down slowly, prolonging her pleasure.  “So beautiful, my precious wife,” he murmured, pressing his face into the crook of her neck as he fought for control.

        “Love you,” she panted, willing her heart to slow as she trailed her hands over the flat plane of his stomach, enjoying the feeling of his muscles contracting beneath her fingertips.  She pressed a kiss to his temple, his face still buried against her throat, as she boldly caressed lower over his hip until she could wrap her hand around his burgeoning length.  He hissed, catching her wrist in his hand.

        “Belle…” he gasped as she ran her thumb lightly over the blunt head of his cock, that gasp turning into a deep moan as he thrust up into her hand.  “Belle, please.”

        Belle watched his pained expression with avid curiosity, never having seen such conflicting emotions cross his face…pain, pleasure, wonder over her boldness…it was all there written clearly for her to see.  “I’m yours,” she said, her tongue running sinuously over his lower lip as she sucked it into her mouth and nipped gently with her teeth.  “I need you, Rumpel.  I’m burning to have you inside me, to fill me up.  Don’t make us wait any longer.”

        The arm he had about Belle crushed her to his chest as his other hand moved to cover the one she had wrapped around his straining length, shifting his body to rest between her quivering thighs.  She let go as he guided himself to the entrance of her body, moaning as she felt him press into her.  “Are you certain, my Belle?  I don’t want to hurt you.”  He knew it was inevitable, but it didn’t sit well with him that he was going to cause her even the slightest discomfort.

        The look she gave him was incredulous at best.  “Seriously, you have to ask?  Yes!” she exclaimed, wrapping her arms about his shoulders and relaxing into his embrace.

        He eased forward until the head slipped past her tight ring of muscles, a rumbling growl issuing from his throat as he felt her tight heat envelop him, his brow knit into a worried frown of concentration.  “Okay?”

        Her inner walls clenched around him, unused to the intrusion, shifting and adjusting to make room for him.  “More,” she gasped, burying her face in the crook of his neck, rubbing her face over his sensitized flesh like a cat seeking attention.  He lifted her legs to wrap around his waist, and braced her against the stone wall of the spring, easing himself further into her until he came up against the barrier of her innocence and stopped.  She was so hot and tight and perfect as she clenched around him and he prayed to every deity he’d ever heard of to keep himself from spilling into her before he even had a chance to bury himself fully into her heat.

        She took the matter out of his hands, biting into his shoulder, the pleasure so intense, his hips bucked forward involuntarily, his cock tearing through her maidenhead, his groin flush with hers.  She stiffened in his arms, a lone tear escaping the corner of her eye to trail over her ashen cheek.  He remained still, gnashing his teeth against the pleasure of being buried in his wife… _his wife._ Somehow, the fact that she was his so completely made it all the more special to be sharing this with her.

        He stroked his fingers through her hair and rubbed soothing circles into her back and over her sides until she once more relaxed, drawing in a deep calming breath as she tentatively wiggled her hips.  “Alright, darling?” he crooned, kissing her gently, praying she wouldn’t ask him to stop now…not now when he’d found the closest he’d ever come to complete bliss.  “I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

        “It’s okay…I’m alright,” she said, smiling reassuringly as she cupped his face in her hands and claimed his lips, thrusting her tongue between his parted lips to duel sensuously with his own, exploring the inner recesses of his mouth at her leisure as he withdrew from her almost completely before snapping his hips forward sharply.  She gasped, the feeling of him filling her so completely nearly overwhelming.  The intense heat that his touch evoked coiling through her veins and pooling in her belly, the pressure she’d come to associate with her pleasure building between her thighs with each thrust.  “More, Rum…harder,” she cried, her inner walls clasping him tightly, fluttering at the onset of her climax.

        The sounds he made against her throat escalated as he did as she bid, growling, moaning, feral in their intensity, giving claim to the beast within him.  His arm wrapped around her hips in a bruising embrace as he held her more tightly, his cock swelling and engorging as she shattered around him, his name tumbling from her lips, her sex spasming and pulling him into the abyss of pleasure with her, milking him dry as he spilled himself within her.  They rode out their high together until they lay limp and panting against the side of the spring, Belle’s arms and legs locked about her husband.

        He didn’t know if he blacked out from the intensity of the experience, but he came back to awareness to find Belle carding her fingers through his limp curls and her lips pressing light kisses to his damp brow.  “Hey,” she purred, “are you alright?”

        “I should be asking you that question,” he said, a silly grin on his thin lips as he pressed his brow to hers.  “Was it…did I hurt you?” he asked, his happiness slipping a notch at the thought.

        Her petal soft mouth curved up into a smile of contentment.  “It was perfect, Rumpel,” she murmured, sighing sleepily as she tucked her head beneath his chin.  He grumbled incoherently as he softened enough to slip from her body, but he continued to hold her just as tightly, unwilling to give up the closeness they shared.

        With a flick of his wrist he transported them upstairs to their bed, hoping the magic wouldn’t make Belle suffer through a bout of nausea.  But when he looked down into her face, she was already asleep.  He nuzzled her ear with his nose and whispered, “I love you.”

        He reached down and pulled the duvet over them, tucking the edges around his wife’s body so she wouldn’t catch a chill.  With a thought a fire sprang to life in the hearth, sending out its comforting warmth as it spread throughout the room.  The Dark One curled his body around his wife and sighed, rumbling happily as he felt the pull of slumber creep along the edge of his subconscious.  He didn’t know what he’d ever done to warrant the treasure in his arms, but he was especially thankful that someone, somewhere, thought he deserved a bit of happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well that was just a little slice of hell to write. Please tell me you enjoyed it. I was so worried I wouldn’t have it ready for this Saturday’s posting, but I did! Yay! Triple posting week! *flings chapter and collapses in a heap* Next chapter is going to be sooooo much fun. We’re going to see Regina’s reaction to their nuptials and find out how she’s enjoying having Hope’s sisters as her guests. Fun! Fun! Fun! Also the dark curse will be cast and an unexpected favor owed. We’re coming to the end, my dearies…two chapters left. I really hope you’ve enjoyed it so far. Thank you all so much for your lovely reviews and support throughout this fic. Xoxox


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Seriously, dearies, if smut is not your thing, don’t read this chapter. I don’t really know how it happened, but apparently they think that I am just a mere typist and they’re in charge of the storyline. So this is your warning if you have a smut phobia. Now I’m going to go hide my face in my pillow.

       Belle carefully clung to the ladder upon which she stood and tried once again to straighten the sword and dagger, her father had given her as a wedding present, into the brackets she’d hammered into the wall of Rumpelstiltskin’s study.  It had been a month since her husband had brought her home to the Dark Castle and she’d finally chosen a place in her home to place them.  Her swordplay was a part of her past now.  It wasn’t as if she would need to continue with it as she knew Rumpelstiltskin would never allow her to defend herself against an enemy…not when he was seldom away from her and saw it as his duty to see to her safety.

       She could have asked her husband to hang them for her, but he wasn’t there at the moment and she didn’t feel the need to wait.  A delighted smile curved her lips as she thought over the last month and the joy she found in being his wife.  It was bliss to be alone with him once more in their home without the disadvantages of servants and the intrigues of the court.  It was just the two of them, free to spend time with each other, long walks around the estate, through the rose garden or the forest.  Long hours were spent discovering one another, quiet talks in the Great Hall over tea or just sitting in front of the crackling fire in the hearth.  Soft voices carried through the cavernous library as they lay curled around one another on the chaise reading to each other and languorous nights, limbs entwined as they gave in to the desire that burned between them.

       If it weren’t for the looming threat of the Dark Curse, Belle would say she’d never been happier.  Yet fear of the unknown kept her awake at night wondering if the precautions he’d written into his life’s work would be enough to keep the queen from destroying their happiness.  She leaned back a bit and surveyed her work, leaning to the right and giving the golden short sword a nudge.

“Belle!?”

       She inwardly cursed as she heard Rumpelstiltskin’s voice, magnified by magic, reverberate throughout the lower floor of the castle.  “In here, Rumpel!” she called, knowing she could be in the uppermost recesses of the castle and he’d still hear her.  She grimaced.  She’d hoped to have been done with this chore before he’d returned from Agrabah and his deal with the street rat who’d summoned him.

       “Belle?” he queried, stopping short in the open doorway before rushing forward to stand nervously beneath the ladder.  “What are you doing, dear?”

       “Straightening these,” she said, reaching further to try to get the sword to hang at the angle she was striving for.  “They just won’t—“  Her words cut off as the sword tipped and began to fall.  As her hand shot forward to grab it, she overbalanced and felt herself falling, closing her eyes and bracing herself for the inevitable impact.  She should have known better as she landed safely in her husband’s arms.  She cracked one eye open, taking in his scowling countenance with a grimace.

       “How many times have I asked you to stay off the ladder?” he asked, his arms tightening about her.  A shudder ran through him as he thought of what could have happened had he not been there.

       She curled her arms around his neck and twined her fingers in the hair at his nape before pressing her lips to his in a gentle kiss.  “And perhaps I would listen if I didn’t know you would always be there to catch me.”

       “What if I weren’t?  Would you listen then?” he asked, his tone sharp as he set her on her feet.  “How am I to get any work done if I am constantly worried about you and what mischief you can make in my absence?”

       Belle tilted her head to the side and studied him as he paced over to the ladder and banished it in a wisp of purple smoke.  She knew the tense set of his shoulders and the twitching of his right hand had more to do with something besides her tumble from the ladder.  “Would you like to tell me about it?” she asked softly, clasping her hands before her in a sign of patience.

       “What?”

       “Whatever is really bothering you.”  She picked her short sword up off the floor and held onto it to give her hands something to do to still their trembling.  The fall had given her quite a fright and she didn’t want him to know just how deeply it had affected her.

       “I don’t like to have my time wasted.  Turns out the little simpleton that called me to Agrabah was a bit too noble to make a deal with the Dark One after all,” he said, waving a dismissive hand.

       She arched a brow at him, seeing right through the flimsy excuse.  “Feel better?” she crooned dryly in a low tone.

       “No, dearie, I do not,” he said, stalking to his desk and pouring himself a healthy measure of goblin made fire whiskey from the decanter. 

       “Now, since I know very well that the wasted deal is not what is bothering you, why don’t you tell me what’s really wrong.”

       He tossed the whiskey back, huffing out a sharp breath through his nose as the alcohol burned a fiery path down his throat.  “I made the deal with the little cinder girl.”

       “Oh, Rumpel,” she said, her eyes smarting with unshed tears.  “H-How long do we have?”

       Rumpelstiltskin looked up at his beloved, finally meeting her troubled gaze with one of his own.  He was coming to regret the decision to be completely honest with her, seeing the pain of their looming separation in her cerulean gaze.  “Six months, give or take.”

       Her shoulders drooped dejectedly, but she refused to let the tears fall.  She was the wife of the most powerful and renowned sorcerer in the realm; she couldn’t afford to show weakness.  “So it has begun.  We have less than a year before the curse is cast,” she said, stating the facts he’d shared with her.

       “Yes.”

       “And you’re certain this deal is going to land you in a cell?  Why would James…er…David do that to you after you led him to Snow?  It’s rather bad form if you ask me,” she said, pursing her lips into a pout.

       He rested his hands on her shoulders, offering her comfort where there was none.  “It’s necessary, my Belle.  We’ve been over this.”

       “It doesn’t mean I have to like it, Rumpelstiltskin.  Your grand schemes!” she fumed, trying to keep her voice level.  It was what she’d been fearing.  He would be imprisoned by the Charmings and she would be banished back to Avonlea under her father’s protection and the unbreakable wall of magic about the kingdom to keep out the Evil Queen.  She would be perfectly safe while her husband was forced to suffer.  _Over my dead body,_ she thought stubbornly.

       A devilish smile curved his thin lips as he reached into the inner pocket of his coat and withdrew a small bejeweled reticule.  “I brought you a gift, my precious wife,” he said, his voice a soft caress meant to soothe, all traces of the Dark One absent from his gentle tone.

       “Rumpel, you don’t have to bring me a gift every time you leave the castle,” she admonished as he took the short sword from her hands and placed the small purse in her palm.  “Although it _is_ lovely.”

       “Pfft.  I can spoil you if I so desire,” he argued.

       Belle dragged her gaze away from his warm amber eyes and tender smile and looked down at the purse in her hands.  It was sky blue with a darker blue drawstring cord, small delicate roses and green vines embroidered along the edges.  Someone had taken great care to craft it and Belle had to smile at the thoughtfulness of his gift.  “It’s lovely,” she murmured, the fabric light as a feather in her hand.

       “And it will come in quite handy no matter what land you find yourself in.  I placed a charm upon it.”

       “Did you?” she asked, raising her brows.

       “Indeed,” he said, a hint of mischief in his eyes as he took the reticule from her and opened it.  He withdrew a gold coin from his pocket and held it up, showing her it was just an ordinary coin.  One of his assuredly, but otherwise quite ordinary.  He dropped it into the bag and cocked a brow as she listened, waiting to hear it land in the bottom.  And she waited….and waited…

       Finally she heard the coin come in contact with the silk lining.  “What did you do?” she asked, a tinge of awe in her voice.

       “This, my dear, is enchanted to hold whatever it is you wish to stuff into it.  Anything you desire, without ever running out of space,” he replied, his impish giggle trilling through the room.  “It will ensure that you can travel lightly and swiftly when the time comes.”

       She narrowed her eyes and gave him a shrewd look, a plan already forming in her mind…a plan she would formulate in detail over the next few months to ensure she got exactly what she wanted.  Her husband wasn’t the only sharp mind in this relationship and she’d prove it to him. 

       The sorcerer held out the light sword to her, weighing it in his hands as he admired the engraving on the blade and handle.  “Why were you trying to hang this on the wall?” he asked, gesturing to the wall brackets as he decided a change of subject was needed.

       She was silent for a moment, seeing through his ploy to distract her and then shrugged.  “I thought it would be another treasure to brighten the study.  It’s not like I’ll ever have another opportunity to use them.”  She moved away from him to retrieve the golden dagger where it had fallen and brushed her fingertips over the blade with a sad smile.  “It’s of no importance, darling.”

       His weathered face fell as he took in the look of disappointment she tried so hard to disguise, realizing his wife was unhappy.  “You miss it that much?”

       “What? Sparring with Brutal?” she asked with a laugh.  “I don’t know…sometimes maybe.  I gave it up when I came here with you the first time; I can give it up again.”

       “You shouldn’t have to give up something you enjoy, m’Belle,” he said, a smile spreading across his face.  “You can spar with me.”

       “Rumpel, no!” she choked, somewhere between a protest and a laugh as he grabbed her hand and pulled her along behind him, her short sword clutched in his hand.  “Really, it’s not necessary.”

       He giggled as he pulled her though the double doors and into the Great Hall, releasing her hand and taking a stance which was rather comical, though she’d never be quite brave enough to tell him so.  A snap, a flourish and a whirl and the Great Hall was emptied of everything save the long dining table, which was now lying on its side atop the hearth rug.  “There!  That should give us more than enough room without having to go out into the cold.”

       “And just where are all of your treasures?” she asked, raising a skeptical brow at his theatrics.

       “Upstairs…storage room…NOT important, dearest,” he said, his hands fluttering before him.  Belle had to bite down on her lip to stifle her amusement.  “What’s important is that we have a bit of fun this afternoon.”  He circled around her, his arms slipping about her waist to pull her back against his chest.  “It will help you relax.”

       Belle melted into his embrace, heat unfurling in her belly, his voice sending a little thrill through her.  “And by relaxing, you mean this little session will end in our bed, no doubt,” she snarked, her eyes alight with desire.

       “Perhaps,” he whispered teasingly, drawing out the ‘s’ in a long hiss as his lips skimmed lightly over his mark below her ear.  He grabbed her skirt and swished it about her legs, wrinkling his nose.  “But this won’t do at all.”  Another snap of his fingers and her skirts disappeared to be replaced with a pair of buttery soft breeches of brown suede and a white lawn shirt, her feet encased in a pair of flat-soled knee high boots.

       “Oh this is nice, Rumpel,” she said, turning this way and that to admire the way the breeches clung to her.  “Much nicer than what I usually wear to practice my swordplay.”

       “Um…” he uttered, his tongue trying its damnedest to stick to the roof of his mouth as his eyes glued themselves to her delectable backside.  “Maybe this was a mistake.  This is going to be nothing but a distraction,” he mumbled under his breath.

       “Pfft,” she scoffed, tucking the tail of her shirt into her breeches to get it out of the way.  She felt practically naked without her hauberk.  She extended her hand to him, silently asking for her sword, smiling when she noticed his distraction.  “Well, this should be over quickly,” she deadpanned.

       Rumpelstiltskin snapped his gaze up to hers and narrowed his eyes.  “Think so, dearie?” he snarked, conjuring his own weapons from the armory.  He brandished a long-bladed dagger and a short sword that was an inch or two longer than her own.  “I have the advantage of a longer reach.”

       “Brutal fights with a broadsword I can’t even lift, Rumpel,” she retorted, quirking a brow.

       “Beside the point, Belle!” he snapped, turning away from her and moving into the center of the room.  He watched her with an appreciative gaze as she practically glided to the center of the room.  The demon caged at the back of his mind raised his head and sniffed the air, a wicked smirk curling its lips.  This would never do.  With a flourish of his hand, a mailed hauberk covered her torso, the links of chain mail draped sinuously on her petite frame from shoulder to mid-thigh.  “Just in case.”

       “Just in case what?!?!?!”

       He shrugged, trying not to let his worry show.  “Accidents happen.”

       “Hmm,” she hummed suspiciously.  “You’re afraid the beast might emerge in the heat of the moment?” she asked, easily reading the worry that wrinkled his brow.

       His lips curled back over his ruined teeth, as he snarled, “Don’t you worry about him, my sweet.  I have him well in hand.”

       Belle concentrated her full attention on him, noting the faint trembling in his hands as he fought for control.  She ran the blade of her dagger over that of the sword, sparks erupting and cascading to the wooden floorboards beneath her feet.  “Do you?” she purred, pleased when the muscle began to tick away in his jaw.

       “Careful, dearest,” he purred, advancing on her and raising his sword, taking his stance.  “This is supposed to be fun.  You wouldn’t want to provoke the beast,” he said, his nose crinkling as he taunted her.

       Belle smiled demurely, fluttering her long lashes at him as she moved into position.  She held her left hand, dagger gripped tightly in her palm, loosely at her side and raised her right out in front of her.  The unfamiliar short sword felt slick and smooth in her hand, the weight similar to the practice sword she used at home and it boosted her confidence that she could provide a worthy opponent for her husband.

       The first clanging of the swords reverberated throughout the cavernous hall, causing an unpleasant ringing in her ears and a sharp welcome tingle of discomfort shooting up her arm.  Adrenaline pumped through her veins and her eyes brightened with the thrill of battle as she met his blows with ease.  He lacked Brutal’s brute muscle and was able to deflect her blows where she could easily slip past the larger man and get under his defenses.  Whereas Brutal worried that he would hurt her, Rumpelstiltskin was not.  He was confident in the chain mail to protect her and any wound he inflicted would instantly be healed by the protection spell contained within her ring.

       Her husband was quick and lithe and had a style all his own and it was the best workout she’d had in…well she couldn’t remember ever having such a thrilling practice.  And then he disappeared, materializing at her back, his dagger pressed to her throat.

       “Cheater!” she cried, a breathless laugh escaped her parted lips.  “I knew you would cheat.”

       “Actually, love, this is quite fair when your opponent is a magic wielder,” he breathed, his tongue tracing the outline of her ear.

       Belle melted back into his chest, catching him off guard…just before she brought her foot down into his instep, knocking him off balance, her right elbow jerking upwards to catch him in his nose.  He stumbled backward, falling on his arse, a look of surprise on his face as he stared up at her.  She held the point of her sword to his throat and smiled down at him.  “I have the advantage.  Do you yield?”

       “Aye, love,” he said, taking her hand and rising to kiss her soundly.  “You fight well,” he commended her.

       “I had good teachers.”

       “Again?”

       Belle beamed at him as she raised her weapons once more. 

       He held up a hand, tilting his head to the side as he held his tongue between his teeth in contemplation.  “What would you say to a little wager, m’Belle?”

       She cast him a distrustful look, her lips pursed as she weighed her answer.  “What kind of wager?  This doesn’t involve me testing your newest potion on myself, does it?”

       His eyes lit up at the memory of the last time he’d tested a potion on her and he couldn’t bite back the giggle that burbled past his lips.  “No, dearie, nothing like that.  This will be fun.”

       “Exactly what you said last time,” she pointed out.  “What do you have in mind, imp?” she asked, her curiosity overriding her better judgment.

       He stepped closer, holding his weapons loosely in his left hand, tracing his index finger along her collarbone.  “Each time I am able to disarm you,” he purred, his voice dark with desire, “you will remove one item of clothing.”

       Belle’s iolite eyes widened in surprise.  “You…you expect me to fight in my underthings?” she asked, her brows disappearing beneath the hair curling over her brow.  He shrugged, his gaze traveling leisurely over her throat, pausing on her lips before finally meeting her eyes.  “Deal,” she whispered, her lips barely brushing his before she flitted away, smirking. “As long as you agree to the same and since you’ve already accepted, I expect you to follow the same rules.”

       He giggled again, impressed with her teasing.  He lifted his sword, but she pointed hers to the floor, leaning forward with a patient almost expectant look on her lovely features.  “What?” he asked, pausing to wonder about her relaxed stance.

       “Off with the vest, my darling.  I’ve already disarmed you once,” she cooed, chuckling softly as his mouth curled in a sheepish grin.

       “So you did, dearie.  Very well.”  Slowly, his right hand smoothed over his chest to the gold clasps holding the black leather vest closed, plucking them open with idle fingers one by one.  Belle’s eyes darkened as she watched the careful movement of his long fingers, her tongue darting out to wet her suddenly dry lips.  _How did I never notice what beautiful hands he has?_ She bit her lip as he tossed the garment away to land beneath the window sill, leaving him in his leather trousers, silk shirt and knee high boots.  “Ready, precious?”

       Her heart thundered painfully in her chest, her breath labored and uneven as she lifted her sword to meet his.  This was something she hadn’t had to concern herself with while sparring with Brutal or Gaston.  It excited her to see the determined gleam in her husband’s eyes, the desire he felt for her, the thirst only she could quench.  A desperate ache formed between her legs and she cursed the breeches she wore for teasing the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs, wishing it was his touch there instead of the soft suede.  She was losing focus with each strike of his blade, her training deserting her when she needed it most.  His sword came down sharply on her mail covered forearm and she lost the grip on her sword, the weapon skittering across the floor.

       She lost her footing as pain radiated up her arm and it was only self-preservation that made her roll into his legs, taking him down with her.  However, before she was able to make good her escape and regain her feet, he tossed his sword away and grabbed her wrist, pinning it to the floor as he crawled up her body to settle between her thighs, his dagger at her throat.

       He ran his tongue along her lower lip before nipping gently with his teeth.  “Do you yield?”

       She writhed beneath him, seeking contact with any part of him she could touch, moaning when his burgeoning erection pressed into her core.  “Yes,” she gasped, the word no more than a breathless whisper.

       His tongue rasped over his mark on her neck as he tossed his dagger to the side.  “I’m beginning to wonder if this game of ours was wise,” he said, lapping at a trickle of blood along a scratch his dagger had made, pleased when the magic prevalent in her ring closed the tiny wound.  “I didn’t mean to hurt you, m’Belle.”

       “It’s just a scratch,” she shrugged, rolling from beneath him and pulling the hauberk over her head.  “I’ve had worse.”

       “The devil you say!” he exclaimed, outraged.

       “One of the perils of training with knights quite bigger than I am, Rumpel,” she said, retrieving her sword.

       He sprang lithely to his feet and wagged a finger at her.  “Ah ah ah, dearie.  I believe you owe me your shirt,” he taunted, his fingers going to the ties of her open collar.

       “I already removed the—“

       “The hauberk remains to protect you.  I’ll have the shirt if you don’t mind.”  He circled around behind her, his hands going to the hem of the silk tunic and pulling it over her head.  He pressed against her back, molding his hips against the swell of her arse to relieve some of the ache of his arousal.  With an iron will, he tossed it atop his vest and replaced the chain mail garment over her head.  He smoothed it over her breasts, smiling against her neck as he felt a shiver run through her.  “Soon, precious, I will have you clad in nothing but this hauberk.  How do you think it will feel…all this slinky steel…caressing your nipples, cold against your skin, gooseflesh erupting all over your perfect skin?”

       She whimpered, her hands covering his as he smoothed the chain mail over her hips and then slid upward to ghost over her breasts.  She bore down on his hands, the steel links digging into her flesh through her thin camisole, the friction on the over-sensitive peaks sending a ripple of heat to the juncture of her thighs.  “You can always concede defeat and let me claim my prize, Belle,” he crooned against the shell of her ear.

       She turned in his arms and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth before pushing hard against his chest, gaining her release.  “It’s not over yet, my husband,” she said, laughing at his surprise as she bent down to pick up her weapons.  The mental picture of him in nothing but his trousers, losing to her and having to give up that last piece of clothing spurred her on, her competitive nature overriding her desire…for the moment.

       On it went, each growing more fervent in their strikes, becoming careless in their movements, driven to the point of mindless lust for the other.  His shirt, her boots, discarded onto the ever growing pile of clothes beneath the window, kicked carelessly out of the way of their heated sparring.  His boots, her trousers…gone.  And after each disarmament, they couldn’t help but fall into each other’s arms, the need to touch more than they could bear, yet neither willing to concede the final defeat and yield to the other.

       Rumpelstiltskin pinned her against the wall, the tapestry at her back cushioning her against the teak paneling covering the stone.  She yielded to him and he tossed his dagger aside, twining his fingers with hers and pinning her arms above her head, his knee finding its way between her legs.  The friction of the leather against her center, against the quivering flesh of her inner thighs had her crying out, the sound lost in his mouth as he slanted his lips over hers.  His tongue thrust into the hot recesses of her mouth as his hips bucked wildly against her hip, unable to control the lust surging to his groin, his cock straining against the constricting leather until he couldn’t distinguish between pleasure and pain.

       His touch was no longer that of her gentle lover, but that of a beast set on devouring its prey and it fueled her excitement to know that she had driven him to this point, that she was slowly shattering his control.  He transferred her wrists into one hand and slipped his hand beneath the hauberk, his claws digging into the silky camisole and rending it from her body to drop into a shredded heap upon the floor.

       He didn’t know how much more of this he could take, his control deserting him at an alarming pace.  He wanted nothing more than to claim her, take her, sate the lust that had him nearly growling with need as his teeth closed over the sensitive flesh at the juncture where her neck met her shoulder, careful not to hurt her as he suckled and nipped, a deep purple bruise blossoming on her alabaster skin.  He released her hands, cupping her breasts, the steel links of the chain mail cool against her nipples, making them pebble and press into his palms.  “Yield to me, Belle.   For fuck’s sake yield, woman!” he pleaded, a hint of desperation in his tone.

       “No,” she panted, her eyes blown wide with desire as she met his gaze.  Her lips curled into a satisfied smirk as she fought to regain control over her labored breathing.  “I will not yield.”

       The look he gave her was feral in its intensity as his hand ghosted over her hip and then lower, pressing and rubbing the steel links against the scrap of lace covering her sex, his inner beast howling as she cried out and thrust her hips forward, seeking to draw out the pleasure of her husband’s touch against her sensitive flesh.  He toyed with her, drawing her closer to the edge until she was clawing at his chest and shoulders in desperation to fall into the crevasse.  Then he stepped away from her, breathing heavily as he acquiesced to her wishes, groaning as he bent to retrieve his sword. 

       He closed his eyes as he lifted his hand, the scent of her arousal strong, savoring the taste of her as he slipped his fingers into his mouth and licked them clean.  Belle moaned from the sheer eroticism of the gesture and her hands trembled as she retrieved her own weapons.  One last round.  One last round and one of them would be forced to yield.  Either way, they would both be victorious, the prize worth the torment they suffered.

       Belle bit back a cry as she took her stance and the hauberk rubbed against her bare nipples, the pleasure rippling through her, spreading out to her fingertips and toes and back to settle between her legs.  Never had she had to fight in this condition where she could feel every single nerve in her body sing with need.  It was the ultimate test to her strength of will…a will that was rapidly failing her.  Winning was becoming less important as her sword met his.  He was no longer toying with her, no longer playing the game.  No, he was putting forth more effort now, slowly battling away at her strength, the desire to have her driving him to unleash the beast.

       Belle faltered, her right knee nearly buckling as his sword came down heavily on hers, his movements rapid, the veracity of his strikes sapping away at her strength.  A tingle of fear rippled up her spine and the metallic taste at the back of her throat warned her before it happened.  She slipped and her dagger flew from her hand as she threw it up, palm outward as his sword came down towards her undefended shoulder.  But instead of the pain she expected, a bright white light erupted from her palm, striking him in the center of his bare chest and sent him hurtling over the overturned dining table to land on the hearth rug.

       She sobered instantly, staring down at her hand as if it were an unknown entity attached to her arm before coming to herself and running across the short distance, leaning over the table to find him lying unharmed, sprawled across the rug.  “Oh Gods, Rumpel!” she cried, climbing over the table to kneel at his side.  “I didn’t mean it…don’t know what happened…so sorry.”

       His eyes flew open and he drew in a sharp breath before grabbing her upper arms and hauling her across his chest, his tongue delving into her mouth as he rolled her beneath him.  “You protected yourself, the ring sensing your fear and responding accordingly,” he rasped, trailing open mouthed kisses along her jaw and over her throat to nip at her collarbone, pulling her legs to wrap about his waist as he pressed into her. 

       The chain mail was in the way, his pants, were in the way.  He needed her now, needed her heat to wrap around him, center him, bring him back to himself.  “Please, please, please,” he whispered, nearly incoherent in his desire to have her.  “Need you, Belle…” he groaned, thrusting against her, desperate to hear her yield to him, to let him claim his prize, her prize…he didn’t care who would claim victory when in the end they would both win.

       “Yes!  Yes, Rumpel,” she moaned, her own desire to have him fill her more than she could bear.  No more games, no more denying him what he needed when she was just as desperate to have him.

       With a whisper of magic, he vanished their remaining garments, unable to bear the thought of having to release her to remove their clothes.  She whimpered softly as he easily slipped into her dripping folds with a hard thrust, her head thrown back and her lips parting in a silent scream of pure pleasure.  Her inner walls clenched around him and a low feral growl rumbled in his chest, driving him on as he set a bruising pace, the culmination of their tortuous game.

       “R-Rumpel…love you,” she cried, the sound getting lost between them as he covered her lips with his, searching out every crevice of her mouth that made her keen and moan and cry for him.  Her pleasure was written across her lovely flushed features, heard in every sigh from her lips and it drove him on, pure male satisfaction that he was pleasing her making his heart swell with more love for her.

       She wrapped her legs tightly about his waist, giving him a different angle, allowing his to thrust deeper, a keening cry ripping from her throat as he brushed against her clit with each stroke.  Her nails left deep scratches in his back as she fought to hold onto him, never feeling as if she could get close enough to him as he pounded into her.  Her hands slipped into the damp curls at his nape, fisting his hair between her fingers as her lips found the salty flesh of his shoulder, her teeth scoring the tendon as she bit down, her climax ripping through her as he howled his pleasure in her ear.  She clenched and spasmed around him, drawing him deeper, urging him closer to the precipice until his body seized, the force of his orgasm making him cry out, jerking against her as he spilled himself within her.  “I l-love you, my Belle.  My precious wife.” he panted, raining kisses over her face as he clasped her to him, never wanting to release her from his embrace. 

       “What in Loki’s name are you doing back there?” a cold voice filled with suspicion and a hint of disbelief asked, the sound carrying through the cavernous hall.

       Rumpelstiltskin’s head shot up, his mouth gaping open incredulously.  “FUCKING HELL!!!!!” he cursed, sending a fireball over the edge of the table without caring if it found its target or not.

       Regina shrieked, ducking out of the way, feeling the hair at her left temple crackle and singe, searching the room for some place to take cover.  Belle whined in protest as he slipped from her, already missing his warmth.  She was a bit concerned as she took in the rage marring his features and she reached out to him, smoothing her hand over his jaw.  He leaned into her palm, willing his frantic breathing to return to normal so he could face the queen.

       He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her brow, trying to convey the importance of her keeping silent for a moment longer.  He conjured a blanket and covered her before rising to his knees to peek over the edge of the table, his eyes nearly black with rage and his wrath begging to be unleashed upon their unwelcome visitor. “Don’t you ever knock, dearie,” he hissed.

       The look of utter disgust on her face was priceless as her dark eyes raked over his mussed hair before trailing down to his naked chest and the rapid rise and fall caused by his labored breathing.  She covered her mouth, a faint green tinge coloring her waxen features.  “Oh gods!”

       “Whatever is the matter, your majesty?” he asked in all innocence, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his laughter at bay.

       “You…you…ick!” she said, turning her back on him.  “Can’t you at least cover yourself!?”

       “What’s wrong? Never walk in on anyone having sex before?” he asked, an amused smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth as he waggled his brows at her, reveling in her discomfort.  “This is _my_ home after all.  I don’t pop in on you and tell you how to conduct your romantic liaisons.”

       “At least I confine my exploits to my bedroom!”

       “Aw,” he said, a look of sympathy crossing his face.  “Not the adventurous sort then?”

       She screeched in outrage, wishing she’d stayed home.  Muffled laughter reached her ears and she whipped back around to see a very feminine hand caress his cheek, the imp’s usual smirking countenance transforming into one of loving adoration as he looked down at his bed partner.  It flummoxed her to the point where she felt dizzy, and curiosity burned in her stomach like acid as she wondered who it could be since she’d effectively destroyed the relationship with his little maid.

       He held out his hand and a shirt from their pile of discarded clothing zoomed across the room to wrap about his arm before handing it to the girl still hidden by the table.  His sneer returned as he gave her his attention once more.  “So what do you want, dearie?  And I swear if you’ve come here to complain about Snow White and her princeling, I will forcibly remove you from the castle,” he warned, his eyes narrowed dangerously.

       “No,” she snorted.  “Snow is the least of my problems.  I’ve come for the curse you promised me, and an explanation.”

       His brows drew down in a frown. “I beg your pardon?”

       “I want to know what I ever did to you that was heinous enough for you to send that _woman_ and her daughters to my court!” she raged.  “They’re horrible!  I haven’t had a moment’s peace in a month.  The second they stepped foot into my castle, chaos ensued.”

       He retrieved his pants and pulled them on.  However much he relished the idea of Regina’s discomfort, he felt at a disadvantage.  He stood up and perched a hip against the side of the table, crossing his arms over his chest.  “Surely they can’t be _that_ bad,” he scoffed.  “All you have to do is marry them off.  I’m sure you can find someone to take them off your hands, so cease your complaining.  And you’ve done plenty enough to incur my wrath.”

       Regina’s smile reeked of malicious glee.  “Oh, come now.  You’re not still on about your little maid, are you?  I’m sure Margie or Verna…whatever her name was is happily settled down with that lummox fiancé of hers by now.  Probably even expecting their first child.”

       Belle rose to her feet and glared icy daggers at the queen, taking small comfort in the shock written on her face.  She stepped into Rumpelstiltskin’s outstretched arm and pressed herself against his side, her arm slipping about his waist.  “My name is Belle, _dearie_ ,” she sneered, smiling tightly at the queen.

       “And I’ll thank you to watch your tone when you speak of my _wife_ ,” the Dark One growled menacingly, thinking it wasn’t too late for a little target practice with his former student.

       “You married her?  But—“ the queen screeched irately.

       “Your little plan failed, Regina,” Belle said, satisfaction dripping from her voice.  “You cannot stop true love, only delay it a bit.”

       Regina clenched her jaw, focusing her ire once more on the Dark One.  “My curse, if you please.”

       Rumpelstiltskin held out his hand, a wisp of crimson smoke dissipating to reveal a small cedar chest with runes etched into the lid.  “Here you are, your majesty, as promised.  Now you can shut yourself away and plot out every little nuance of your revenge against Snow,” he said, holding out the chest to her.

       She couldn’t hide the excitement in her dark gaze as she clasped it in both of her hands…finally, the object of her stepdaughter’s destruction within her grasp.  However she couldn’t resist one last dig at the girl who’d ruined her plan to strip the Dark One of his power.  “Don’t get too comfortable, dear.  Love is fleeting…a weakness, but power is eternal.”

       “That’s so sad.  Power is fleeting, Regina; love is eternal.  I suggest you re-evaluate your life before you end up a bitter, lonely old crone with no one to mourn your passing,” Belle said, unable to feel pity for the woman who’d sought to take her love from her.

       Rumpelstiltskin gathered Belle close as Regina clutched the curse to her chest and disappeared in a plume of blue smoke.  “You shouldn’t provoke her, dearest.  She’ll only try harder to come between us.”

       She wrapped her arms about his neck and pulled him down to meet her lips, pouring her heart and all her love into the kiss.  “You took a chance with your heart, Rumpel, deciding to put your faith into our love.  You trust me not to hurt you and I will _never_ give you cause to doubt that.  As long as we have each other, trust each other, there is little she can do to us.”

       “I know you didn’t want me to give the curse to Regina, but—“

       “It was necessary to find your son, Rum.  I understand your need to find him,” she said, her soft tone a balm to his senses.

       He stroked his hand over her hair, the silken strands slipping through his fingers as he sighed and buried his face against the crook of her neck.  “I won’t let her harm you, sweetheart, I promise.  I’ve written it into the curse where I will always have you at my side.  No matter what she tries to do, as the creator of the curse, her will cannot supersede my own.”

       “I trust you,” she whispered, tugging gently at the ends of his hair and smiling when he lifted his head to meet her gaze.  “In the meantime, we must prepare for whatever may or may not happen.  Together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well, I hope ya’ll enjoyed it…really I do. One more chapter to go my loves until we bid adieu to this tale. I hope you’ve liked it so far and would love to hear what you think…xoxoxo
> 
> Hugs and love to my beta AquaJasmine23 for all your love and support. Love you, Jazz!!!


	19. Chapter 19

       It was time.  Her teeth were gnashed together so hard, she didn’t see how they hadn’t been ground down into powder, the pain in her chest nearly crippling as she struggled to draw in a calming breath.  She turned as she stepped off the bottom step of the marble stairs that led into the Dark Castle, wanting one last look at her home.  It was probably the last she’d ever see of it and the thought made her heart clench as if a mighty hand were squeezing it.  She’d known for months that this day would come, yet it didn’t make it any easier to bear.  To know that her husband was equally distraught over their parting brought her little comfort.

       Dove sat in the driver’s box of the sleek traveling coach Rumpelstiltskin had procured for the express purpose of her trip to Avonlea and she couldn’t bring herself to look upon the conveyance with anything less than annoyance because he wouldn’t be coming with her.  She looked beyond the courtyard to the looming black iron gates and the six outriders her father had sent to escort her home, making the reality of her situation more real than anything else.  Rumpelstiltskin had spoken long and loud over the subject of her safety with her father and for once they were in complete agreement.  Of course her husband hadn’t divulged the entire truth to Maurice, but then she’d known he wouldn’t.  He’d simply told his father in law he needed to attend to some business and it was best if Belle could visit for an extended stay.

       She tied the reticule he’d given her more securely about her wrist and made her feet move her forward to join him at the coach.  It contained her journal, several changes of clothes and necessities, her sword and dagger, some of Rumpelstiltskin’s more useful potions- never knowing when they might come in handy- his precious cup that he couldn’t seem to live without and a long cedar box, inlaid with runes containing the Dark One’s dagger.  She’d argued until she was nearly blue over that little addition to her belongings, but he’d been insistent.  With the castle undefended and subject to looters once the news of his imprisonment spread, there was a distinct possibility that someone would stumble upon it.  It would be safest with the one person in the entire realm he felt he could trust.  She’d agreed with one condition- that she wouldn’t have to touch it.  The chest had hit the bottom of her reticule with a loud _thunk_ and that is where it would remain until they reached the new land and he could have it back.

       He immediately enfolded her petite frame in his arms, his embrace almost bruising, as she reached his side, burying his face in her fragrant locks.  “My Belle…”

       A sob tore loose from her throat as her arms wrapped about his neck.  “I’m sorry.  I promised myself I wouldn’t cry,” she apologized, clinging to him.

       “Shh, love,” he crooned, drawing back to meet her gaze.  His features twisted with pain as he looked down into her cerulean eyes filled with sorrow and swimming with tears.  “Don’t cry, my darling, please.  It won’t be long before we’re reunited in the new land.  You’ll wake up in my arms and everything will be fine.”

       Belle leaned into his touch as he cradled her face in his warm hands.  “I-I don’t want to l-leave you,” she stammered, biting down on her lip, hoping the pain it brought would somehow distract her from the sound of her heart shattering, the shards piercing her lungs and depriving her of the air she needed.

       He drew in a shuddering breath, sharing the pain of their parting.  “I know.  This isn’t easy for me either, dear heart.  Surely, you must know that,” he murmured, pressing his brow to hers.  “I don’t know how I will bear being away from you.”

       She was so frustrated she could have happily stamped her foot.  “Then don’t.  Forget about your meeting with Ella and come back inside with me.”

       “You know I can’t.  There are loose ends I need to tie up before the curse is cast,” he insisted, clasping her tighter to his chest to lend her his strength.  “Belle, this isn’t like the last time we parted.  I’m not sending you away because of a misunderstanding, but for your safety.  If you are in Avonlea with your family, behind the wards I’ve erected…if I know you’re safe, it will help me get through this.  Please, Belle.”

       “I’m very upset with you right now,” she said petulantly.

       “I know, dearest,” he answered, a sad smile forming on his lips as he brushed away her tears with a snowy handkerchief.  “I promise when this is done, we’ll never be separated again.”

       “Until your next brilliant scheme.”

       “Never.”

       “So you say now.”

       “I love you,” he said simply, cutting off her protests as his lips slanted over hers, pouring his love into her the only way he knew how.  “Never forget.”

       “I love you too, my husband,” she whispered against his lips, prolonging the kiss, knowing it would be her last for a good while.  He lifted her easily in his arms, the skirt of her violet traveling dress spilling over his arm as he climbed into the coach and settled her on the seat.  He pulled the warm wool blanket from beneath the opposite seat and tucked it around her legs, assuring himself of her comfort for the journey to her homeland. 

       With one last lingering kiss, he exited the coach and closed the door, reaching back through the open window to clasp her hand.  “Be safe, dearest.”

       “Rumpel…” she cried, tears pouring in a dam of heartbreak over her waxen cheeks as he nodded to Dove to give him leave to depart.  She turned in her seat to watch him through the rear window of the coach, her last sight of his stiff shoulders and a hint of tears in his own amber eyes as the coach rounded the first turn in the pass and she could no longer see him.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

       Belle’s resolve to obey her husband’s wishes last about a fortnight.  The realm was abuzz with the news of Rumpelstiltskin’s capture and imprisonment by Snow White’s prince with help from Princess Ella and her husband- who was now missing.  _Serves the little wretch right,_ Belle thought with satisfaction.  She burned with the need to slap the girl silly.  It was Ella’s own fault that she’d made a deal without reading the contract, but it made Belle seethe with rage because her husband had to suffer for it.  Certainly he was where he wanted to be, but dreams about what he must be suffering plagued her sleep, and most times her waking moments as well.

       It had taken another two weeks of cajoling, bribing and then threats to get her father to agree to accompany her to Longborne to pay a visit to the royals who were holding her husband captive.  Maurice had made a promise to Rumpelstiltskin to keep her safe and he was hesitant about breaking a deal with his son in law.  That thought still made him cringe, by the way, having to claim the Dark One as a member of his family.

       Belle smiled at him as he sat fidgeting on the seat across from her in the coach.  “Papa, will you please relax.  It will be fine.”

       “How can you be so confident they will even let you see him?” Maurice asked for the millionth time since they’d left Avonlea early that morning.  “And you know he’s not going to be happy that you’ve left the protection of the palace to come all this way.”

       “I can handle my husband, thank you very much,” she snarked, her lips curving up on one side in a smirk reminiscent of the Dark One.  She glanced out the coach window and smiled at Brutal.  He and Gaston, along with an additional four outriders, had insisted upon accompanying them.  Belle had argued that it was unnecessary, especially with the Dark One’s crest emblazoned on the side of the coach.  Who in their right mind would attack them and incur his wrath?

       She didn’t have to wait long for an audience with Snow and Charming and was led to a comfortable parlor near the throne room where they had been conducting business.  Snow greeted her with a warm smile and embraced her, a happy smile on her face.  “Belle, it’s so lovely to see you,” the princess said with genuine affection.  “How are you?”

       “I’ve been better,” Belle answered truthfully.  “It’s wonderful to see you in your rightful place on the throne and with David at your side.”

       Charming took her hand and bowed over it, his courtly manners having improved since last she’d seen him.  “Your highness, welcome.  This is a delightful surprise to have you and your father visit our court.”

       “But what brings you here?” Snow asked, her curiosity piqued.

       “I wish to see my husband,” Belle said simply, a demure smile curving her lips.

       Charming leaned a hip against the arm of his wife’s chair and shook his head.  “I don’t think that would be wise, your highness.  He—“

       “…needs me,” she said, cutting him off.  “And stop with the ‘your highness’ business.  Just call me Belle.”  She focused her attention on Snow, believing it would be easier to get through to her than the stubborn shepherd do-gooder, as her husband was want to call him.  David was a good man- much better than he brother James- but his sense of good and evil were a bit askew in Belle’s opinion.  There were no shades of gray when it came to his view of the world.

       “Belle,” Snow began, looking uncomfortable to be discussing the Dark One.  “He’s dangerous.  He’s not the same man I met in Avonlea.”

       “He would never hurt me,” she said in Rumpelstiltskin’s defense.

       “Perhaps not, but—“

       “He’s a madman.  The guards say he’s constantly rambling, not making a lick of sense, mind you.  He has been aggressive and were it not for the fairy magic to render him powerless, there’s no telling what he would do,” Charming said, horrified at the idea of letting Belle anywhere near him.

       “Fairy magic and Rumpel’s curse do not mix well.  Not to mention that he is unused to being confined,” Belle retorted, wondering if he was in pain.

       Snow reached over and laid her hand comfortingly atop Belle’s.  “Surely you can understand our reluctance to—“

       Belle waved a dismissive hand, gnashing her teeth at their unwillingness to see the good in him- much like the rest of the people who knew him.  “Snow, what would you do if David were locked away somewhere…unjustly, I might add…and needed you?”

       “Unjustly!?” Charming nearly choked.  “He wanted to steal Ella’s baby!”

       “A baby she signed away for the privilege of going to the ball to meet her prince.  If Rumpelstiltskin hadn’t made the deal with her she never would have met Thomas and therefore the matter of her child would not be an issue because it wouldn’t exist.  Then again not knowing her personally, I could not vouch for her virtue,” Belle added dryly.

       “She didn’t know what she was doing!” Charming seethed, his face mottling with anger.  “Ella was desperate.”

       “And if you know anything about my husband, David, you know that her level of desperation calls to him.  He offers to help…for a price because whether you like it or not, the magic always requires a price…whether or not the caller accepts the deal is up to them.  Apparently she didn’t read her contract,” she explained in a calm tone, never deigning to raise her voice.  For good measure, she removed the cinder girl’s contract from her reticule and unfurled it to lay across the coffee table for the prince’s perusal.

       Charming knelt on the thick Agrabahan rug at Snow’s feet and began reading the contract for himself, knowing the Dark One must have tricked the girl into signing it.

       Belle reached over and pointed to a line several paragraphs down.  “If you will look at paragraph six, addendum B, it clearly states that she has agreed to give ‘anything’, do ‘anything’ for a chance to go to this particular ball.  The Dark One reserves the right to choose what item, article, favor _or_ person belonging to the girl.”  She paused as the prince’s mouth gaped open and he cast her an accusing glare.

       “I’ll thank you not to look at me like that, David.  Slavery has not been banished in this realm and he was within his rights to put it in the contract as he saw fit.  It also states that he would designate the time he would choose to claim the price.  Is that not her signature next to my husband’s at the bottom of the contract?”

       Snow leaned over her husband’s shoulder and groaned as she noticed the looping scrawl that usually adorned the sky blue stationary with Ella’s seal.  “Yes, that’s her hand,” she confirmed.

       “That still doesn’t explain Prince Thomas’s disappearance,” he argued.

       Belle sighed wearily.  Really it was like talking to a bloody tree!  “Let me draw you attention to the last paragraph,” she said, pointing.  “If the signee fails to fulfill her part of the contract as listed above, her next of kin will be forfeit and must pay the price of the magic in a manner of the Dark One’s choosing.  I’m certain he’s safe and sound wherever he may be.  When, or should I say ‘if’ knowing that little wretch, she hands over the child, I’m sure Thomas will be restored to her side.”

       Snow cringed.  “If it were David, I would try everything in my power to free him.”

       “I am not here to try to free my husband.  I want to make that abundantly clear, even though I have enough evidence to prove that he did nothing more than offer his magical services to the twit.  Apparently the power she gained through her marriage made her think she could get something for nothing and if it’s one thing I’ve learned from my husband is that you don’t break a deal with him.  Based strictly on this contract, I have enough evidence to demand his release.”

       Charming stared at her in horror, moments away from what Belle was sure was going to be an apoplectic fit.

“However, with the inevitability of the queen’s threat hanging over our heads, I don’t think his release would be in the realm’s best interest.  In fact,” she paused, letting that statement soak in, “I want you to lock me up with him.”

       “What?” the royals asked in unison.

       “I would never…”

       “Impossible…out of the question.”

       Belle sighed and arched a brow at them, her irritation growing.  “The way I see it,” she began.  “You owe my husband.  If he hadn’t brought you to Avonlea,” she said, giving Snow a pointed look, “you wouldn’t have been there when David arrived with Abby.”  Her gaze swung to Charming.  “And if Rumpel hadn’t freed Frederick from his curse, you would probably be bound to my friend in a loveless marriage.  If it weren’t for us, the two of you would still be fumbling about wondering if you would ever be together, nor would you now be expecting a child or be sitting on your rightful throne.  With the added evidence I have provided here,” she said, rerolling the scroll and tucking it away, “I would say you owe us.”

       “Belle, this is insane,” Snow said, rubbing her hand over her brow as if she were fighting off a headache.  “You can’t really want us to lock you up with him!”

       “It is not insane to want to be with the man I love,” she murmured, looking down at the tea cup in her hands.

       Snow turned her pleading gaze on her husband.

       “Snow, you can’t be considering this!” he balked.

       “Charming,” Snow said softly.  “She’s right.  We owe them a great deal.  We can’t allow Rumpelstiltskin to take Ella’s baby, but we _can_ let Belle be with him.  It’s the least we can do to repay the kindness they showed us in Avonlea when we both despaired of never being together,” She smacked his arm, hissing, “And for arresting him and throwing him in a cell without all the facts.  Because of them we found happiness.  I can’t turn my back on what they did for us.”

       “I can’t believe this,” he mumbled, pacing several steps away from them as he contemplated the ramifications of what Snow wanted to do.  “What are we going to do if she helps him escape?”

       Belle smiled for the first time since leaving the Dark Castle, hope flaring to life in her chest.  “You have my word that I will do nothing to help him escape.  He will be a model prisoner,” she said, biting her lip to keep from laughing at the outright lie.  There was too much of the conniving imp in him for him ever to be a model prisoner.

       “Belle, the conditions of his cell aren’t the best,” Snow admitted ruefully.  “But I assure you, we’ll provide better food and warmth for you.”

       “I beg your pardon? You imprison him and then mistreat him?” she fumed.

       Charming came to his wife’s defense.  “Rumpelstiltskin is said to be able to use all manner of objects to transfigure into something useful.  We couldn’t allow him to have something that would aid in his escape.”

       “And just how is he supposed to do that if his magic has been bound?! He’s powerless, alone, and devoid of hope and you treat him worse than you would your hunting dogs!?” Belle hissed, her eyes flashing angrily at the prince.  “Take me to him…now.”

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

       Rumpelstiltskin closed his eyes and clasped his hands over his stomach as he rested against the cold stone wall of his cell, calling Belle’s smile to his mind’s eye.  _God’s how I miss her_ , he thought, the cold husk where his heart should be, fluttering painfully in his chest.  The hardest part about being locked in the cell wasn’t the abysmal food or the faint hum of fairy magic that bound his power, but rather the pain of his separation from his Belle.  He hated it that she was hurting and alone- all because of his scheming.  When they reached the land without magic and were reunited, he vowed to somehow make it up to her.

       He narrowed his eyes on the tunnel entrance as he heard the low murmur of voices.  It wasn’t yet feeding time- not that he would dare touch the slop they brought him twice a day- and that was usually the only time he saw anyone.  They were all too afraid to face the Dark One.  The highlight of his week had been when the Charmings had come to pay him a visit, so worried about rumors of the queen’s curse.  Well, at least one reason he’d allowed himself to be imprisoned had been fulfilled…he now had the name of the savior.  _Emma, Emma, Emma_ , he sing-songed in his head.  She would come to break the curse and save them all and then he and Belle could begin their search for his son.  Yes, it would all come to pass just as he’d foreseen.

       “Rumpelstiltskin,” the guard called as he appeared at the end of the tunnel.

       “Yes, dearie.  Did you think I’d popped out for a nip at the tavern?” he quipped, his impish giggle reverberating through the mine.  It faded as he looked curiously at the three cloaked figures trailing behind the guard.

       “You have visitors,” the guard stated simply.

       “Well, well, well.  What could little Snow and her prince possibly have to discuss with me?” he wondered aloud.  Charming whipped the hood of his cloak back and ground his teeth, causing the Dark One to smirk with satisfaction.  It brought him no end of glee to see the discomfort evident in the princeling’s tight features.

       The third figure stepped up to the bars and reached through the bars, grasping his hands in her small ones and giving a reassuring squeeze.  He froze, his hand shaking as he freed it from hers and pushed the hood of her cloak back so he could see her face.  “Belle…”  He recovered quickly, schooling his face into a mask of control, turning his ire on the royals.  “What is she doing down here?” he hissed.  “This is no place for her!”

       Snow smiled, refusing to answer him, knowing it would be easier if Belle was left to explain everything to him.  “Belle, send the guard for whatever you might require,” she said, reaching out and embracing the shorter girl.  “I’ll make sure your father is allowed down to visit before he returns home.”

       “Thank you, Snow,” Belle said, returning her hug.

       “What the hell is going on?!” Rumpelstiltskin demanded, not used to being ignored and not liking it one bit.

       The Charmings, with one last look of dismay at the Dark One’s wife, turned and left the tunnel as the guard opened the cell and hurriedly ushered Belle inside.  Belle watched him go and then immediately wrapped her arms about her husband, reveling in the feeling of his crushing embrace. 

       “What have you done?” he asked, pulling back to stare down into her moist eyes.

       “I missed you,” she said defensively, not at all concerned with the Dark One’s death glare.  “I don’t like sleeping alone, either.”

       “So you thought to come and share my pile of hay?” he asked, his voice rising in anger.  “How the hell did you even manage to convince them to let you down here, much less into my cell?”

       Belle poked him in the center of his chest with her finger.  “You’re not the only one in this relationship who can be persuasive.  They owe us for bringing them together and I made certain they knew it.”

       “You _guilted_ them into letting you see me?” he asked incredulously.  “I must say, dearest, I’m impressed.”

       Belle lifted a brow.  “One does not live with the spinner of deals without learning a thing or two, y’know.”  She ducked her head sheepishly, staring down at her fidgeting hands as she twisted her rings around and around on her finger.  “I may also have given them evidence that brought to light how you were unjustly arrested and imprisoned,” she said hurriedly before she lost her courage.

       “What evidence?” he asked, his hands fluttering worriedly at her waist.

       “Ella’s contract.”

       “You went back to the Dark Castle after I’d expressly forbid it to retrieve a contract?!” he yelled, his voice so loud it caused dirt and rock to rain down from the ceiling.  “What if there had been looters or interlopers or THE BLOODY FUCKING QUEEN LOOKING FOR MY DAMN DAGGER?!?!?!”

       Belle narrowed her eyes, a dangerous glint firing within as she balled her hands into fists at her side.  “It’s my home too, Rumpelstiltskin,” she countered.  “My _enchanted home_ , mind you!  As its mistress, the castle would let no harm come to me while I was in residence and you know it.  Your wards are too powerful for just anyone to get past.  And for all your brilliant scheming and plotting,” she snorted derisively, “did you ever take into account how I would feel being separated from you?”

       “I was trying to protect you!”

       “Pffft!” she scoffed.  “You were trying to get me out of the way until it was once again convenient to have me by your side.  I’m not some wilting flower to tuck away in a vase to look at when you’re feeling _in the mood_.”

       “Belle—“

       “I wasn’t finished!” she shouted, stepping closer and glaring up into his face, her finger steadily poking him in the chest to get her point across.

       “Ow!”

       “I did what I had to do to ensure I would be allowed to stay with you whether you bloody well like it or not.  You’re my husband and my place is at your side,” she said, the fight finally going out of her. Couldn’t you at least try to act as if you’re happy to see me?”

       He pulled her deeper into the shadows at the back of the cell and brought his lips down on hers, moaning softly at the first taste of her.  “How could you think otherwise?”

       “Well the shouting was the first clue,” she said drolly.  She pitched her voice higher to imitate his Dark One tone of voice.  “What the hell are you doing here, Belle, might have had me doubting there for a moment,” she snarked.  “Could you please just hold me and be happy I’m here with you?” she asked, her voice softening as it quivered with emotion.  “I needed you.”

       “Oh, Belle…”  He pulled her down onto the pile of hay that served as his bed and curled his body around her, reaching for the thin blanket to cover her trembling form.  “I’m sorry I’ve put you through this.”

       His lips brushed against hers, tasting the saltiness of her tears as she whispered, “I’m not leaving you.  You don’t have to go through this alone.”

       “They’ll never let you stay here with me.”

       “They will.  When the curse comes, we’ll be together,” she assured him, tucking her head beneath his chin and snuggling further into his embrace.

       He dropped a kiss to the top of her head and smiled against her fragrant curls.  “My precious wife, so clever at getting what she wants.  I missed you so much, sweetheart.  I’m sorry I lost my temper with you.”  He could feel the itch of impatience that made his skin crawl recede as he held her to him, her comforting presence a balm to his nerves.  “I didn’t realize how agonizing our separation would be.”

       “I felt it too, Rumpel, as if a part of me were missing.  I nearly drove Papa crazy until he agreed to accompany me to Longborne.  I know I promised to stay in Avonlea, but I couldn’t just sit there and wait knowing you were here all alone.”  She peeked up at him from beneath her long lashes, a hesitant smile playing at her lips.  “Are you very mad at me?”

       He covered her lips with his, gentle sipping kisses that made her yearn for more.  “No, m’Belle.  How could I ever be mad that you would scheme to find a way to come to me?  Although I could have wished you’d stayed away from the Dark Castle with me not there to protect you.”  His hand ghosted over her hip, trailing upward to cup her breast in his warm palm.  “I love you.”

       She sighed blissfully, impossibly happy considering she and her beloved were locked away beneath the earth in a magical prison.  “I love you too, Rumpelstiltskin.”

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

Several weeks later…

 

      

       Belle watched her husband pace restlessly across the dirt floor of the cell, his agitation seeming to grow with each passing moment.  He’d been this way since she’d come back from her visit with Snow that afternoon.  Snow had insisted that she come out of the cell at least once a day to take tea with her, or walk the grounds for a bit of exercise.  A room had even been set aside for her should she wish to bathe or have a respite from the gloom of the dungeon cell.  Rumpelstiltskin had agreed with the princess, unable to bear his wife suffering needlessly.  Yet, each time she left with her guard to go up into the castle, he felt as if she wouldn’t be allowed to return, despite her steadfast assurances that she would.  Each time she did indeed return to him, he held her to him and showered her with his love and affection, thankful for her presence at his side.  It was on one such occasion that the queen had visited and she’d returned to the cell to find him nearly giddy with glee, knowing their time of imprisonment was coming to an end.

       She’d come again, moments ago to gloat, to taunt, to tell him she’d taken her life back, proud to have accomplished the feat even at the cost of her dear father.  He’d sent her into the very darkest recesses of the cell, not wanting the queen to know Belle was there with him, especially without his magic to protect her.  The coldness that seemed to permeate the cell seemed to deepen and she could see her breath in the air as she pulled her blanket closer about her shivering form.

       “Rumpel…” she said, her teeth chattering.

       His pacing ceased at once and he beckoned her to his side, his comforting arms enfolding her in his embrace.  “Hush, dear heart, it’s fine.  Don’t be afraid,” he said softly, smoothing his hand over her hair as he stroked his fingers through the silken tresses.

       “I feel strange…my head aches,” she complained, hating the note of a whine in her usually confident voice.

       “It’s the curse, love.  The more it encroaches, the worse you will feel.  I’m here; I won’t let anything harm you…I promise.  It will be over soon,” he crooned, his lilting voice spoken directly into her ear bringing her comfort.  His firm hand at the back of her head pressed her face into the crook of his neck as he curled his body around her in a protective stance.

        She whimpered softly, clinging to him, focusing on his voice as her head whirled.  “Don’t let go.”

       “Never.”  He closed his eyes, tightening his grip on her trembling form as the black cloud of magic barreled down the tunnel towards the cell and washed over them, sweeping them away into oblivion.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

       Rumpelstiltskin’s eyes fluttered open only to slam shut against the bright sunlight streaming into the room through the open curtains.  First thing he’d do when he got up was nail the damn things shut, he thought with a groan.  He pulled the pillow out from beneath his head and covered his face with it, groaning again as he felt the warm body snuggled up against his side.  “You forgot to close the curtains last night…again,” he said, his voice muffled by the pillow.

       “And I suppose your fingers are broken and couldn’t manage the task,” she said, sarcasm dripping from her tone.

       Her voice, his precious Belle’s voice, rushed over him like the cascade of a waterfall, memories whirling in his mind with the speed of a freight train.  It was with supreme effort that he separated his true memories from those implanted by the curse.  Curse!  She’s actually done it.  He rolled his wife beneath him, cradling her face in his hands to hold her still as he searched her face, his sable eyes filled with worry.  “Tell me my name!” he practically shouted at her.

       Isobel- Belle!- looked up at him as if he’d lost his mind.  “What’s wrong with you, Nicholas?” she asked, her brow furrowing into a puzzled frown as her voice tripped over the unfamiliar moniker.  “N-Nicholas…Nick…Rumpel?”

       “Yes!” he said, his mouth crashing down upon hers, kissing her trembling lips as she wrapped her arms around him.

       “Rumpel!” she gasped.

       “You remember me,” he moaned into her mouth, relief spreading throughout him and chasing away the numbness of his fear.  His precautions for them written so painstakingly into the curse had actually borne fruit.

       “My head feels like it’s stuffed with straw.”

       “It will pass, love.  Just concentrate on your true memories and the fake memories will slowly integrate into them,” he explained, smiling down at her and kissing the tip of her pert little nose.

       “I don’t think I like them.  They’re telling me I don’t like _you_ very much,” she said, her frown deepening.

       He trailed his lips along the smooth curve of her jaw as his hand gently squeezed her hip.  “And what are your other memories telling you, my darling wife?”

       “How much I love you,” she whispered fervently, pulling his lips back to hers.  She didn’t care what Regina might have implanted in her head.  This was her true love and she’d never be able to forget how much she adored him.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

_Journal Entry 23 rd March_

_I have to say, this land has a myriad of conundrums.  How exactly does the microwave work, for instance?  The stove was enough for me to work out, even with the cursed memories telling me how to use it, but the microwave still has me flummoxed.  I learned really quickly that you cannot put metal objects into it.  Poor Rumpel had to have it replaced along with two of the smoke alarms and the curtains over the sink.  I’m hoping that was the last of the kitchen mishaps, but I have a feeling there will be more._

_We’ve been here a week now and I don’t think my husband is adjusting well to being without his magic.  I catch him at times where he will flourish his hand, expecting it to work and then his face will fall when he realizes it doesn’t.  Hopefully things will be better soon.  Perhaps if he only had his cursed memories floating about in his head it would be easier for him to function without his magic, but he’s had it at his beck and call for three centuries.  *Sigh* Apparently it will take some getting used to.  Then there are the things that haven’t changed.  People still fear him, much to my chagrin, although in this land it is because of the power he holds over their livelihood.  He practically owns the entire town, still makes his precious deals to those desperate enough to come to him for help and his soft spoken menacing confidence makes them tremble.  At least he can’t turn anyone into a snail here.  That’s really too bad_ _…_ _I wouldn’t mind seeing Regina slithering along on her own slime trail.  She’s absolutely horrible to Snow_ _…_ _er_ _…_ _Mary Margaret.  But then, no one is supposed to be happy here; no one but the queen.  If she knew how blissfully happy Rumpel and I are, she would surely begin to plot against us.  It is the reason why we must continue with the charade except in the privacy of his shop or our home.  He has assured me nothing can touch us there, so I must be thankful for small favors._

_Twenty eight years, stuck in a frozen limbo of unhappiness, does not bode well for my continued good cheer, however.  Everything depends upon the Charming’s daughter and her ability to break the curse.  Only then will we be able to leave and search for our son.  Yes, ‘our’ for that is how I have come to regard Baelfire.  I just hope he can be as accepting of me as I am of him._

_I am confident of one thing.  As much as Rumpel warns me against it, I cannot just sit back and let things go on without trying to help.  Regina wants to take away all the happy endings_ _…_ _wants everyone to cower before her.  Too bad!  I’m going to do my best to reunite those that have been torn asunder by the curse of my husband’s making. I feel it my duty to fix what is broken.  It may work or it may not, but I at least have to try._

       She smiled at Jefferson as he plopped down into the booth seat opposite her.  His eyes were alight with awareness, Regina having allowed him to keep his true memories to make his suffering greater.  Two lives alive in his head, just as hers and Rumpel’s…and separated from his wife and daughter.  It was agony to see Alice raising Grace on her own, especially when he possessed the memories of their life together.  “You look pale.  Having trouble sleeping?”

       “Sleep? What’s that, my darling girl?” he asked, his gaze raking over the laminated menu as he tried to decide what to have for lunch.  “And why are there three glasses of water on this table?  Gold meeting us for lunch today?”

       “Nope,” she said, a teasing smile on her lips.

       “Then who—“

       Belle looked over his shoulder as the bell hanging over the door rang and her friend entered, removing her coat and hanging it on a hook before walking over to Belle’s booth.  “Hey, sorry I’m late,” the woman apologized, sliding onto the seat next to Belle.  “I got held up with my last appointment…Zel Whitman.  I swear her hair grows faster than anyone’s in town and it’s so thick it take forever to cut it.”  She looked over at the hatter and stared, her eyes wide and a bit unfocused.  She had to shake herself inwardly, saying, “Hi,” not recognizing her own voice with its dreamy quality.

       Jefferson stared at her, his lips parted on a soft gasp.

       “Alicia, this is Jefferson, my friend I told you about,” she said, introducing the woman.

       Alicia extended her hand to him, her soft blue eyes warm with interest as he clasped it in his own.  “It’s so wonderful to finally meet you.  Belle’s been going on and on about you for some time now.”

       Jefferson drew in a sharp breath as he took his wife’s hand in his own and felt tears sting the corners of his grey eyes.  “I-It’s nice to meet you, Alicia,” he said, his generous lips curling into a smile.  His gaze swung to meet Belle’s and he vowed to somehow thank her in the very near future.

       Belle closed her journal and tucked it away in her bag, enjoying watching her friends talk and laugh and make plans to have dinner that night.  True Love was a wondrous thing, after all.  Sometimes it just needed a little push.  Perhaps tomorrow she’d arrange a chance meeting between Abigail and Frederick…and the next day…

       She shook her head as she left the diner and made her way to her husband’s pawnshop.  Regina may have cast a curse, but it was just as Rumpel always said…True love is the most powerful magic of all.

 

 

THE END

 

 

One last conversation:

 

       “And just where the hell is Charming, Rumpel? I’ve seen a lot of people and he’s just not here!”

       “He’s here somewhere, Belle.”

       “How am I going to help Snow if I can’t find her prince?”

       “He’s here.  You just haven’t come across him is all.”

       “Fine!  So I’ve already gotten Jefferson on the right track with Alice, Abby on the way to happiness with Fred, Gaston and Hope are next…”

       “Sweetheart, what about Ella and Thomas?” he asked, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye as he continued to mark off the names of tenants who’d paid their rent for the month, biting back a snicker.

       Belle snorted, cocking a dubious auburn eyebrow.  “Um…no, I don’t think so.  That girl is on her own.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: And that, dearies, is that. The end, finis, done!! I hope you enjoyed this last installment. You guys are amazing. Thank you so much for all your love and support…even with the long hiatus I took over the summer. *sob* I can’t believe it’s finished *sob* I hope to see you all again soon. You know I have something else up my sleeve for Rumpel and Belle. Please let me know what you thought!!
> 
> Thank you, Jazz, for sticking with me through all my doubts and fears and angsty thoughts while writing this story. I couldn’t ask for a better beta.


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